A Case of Frost
by seldomselcouth
Summary: The town of Burgess is plagued with strange happenings. Unusual murders, monsters, and playground rumours. Of course it would attract the attention of the Hunters and Legend alike.
1. Prologue

**Critique welcome. A/N at end of chapter regarding updates, etc.**

**Enjoy!**

**A Case of Frost**

**Prologue**

The flashing blue from the television was all that lit the living room. Then the credits ending the cooking program started rolling, and a finger hit the little red button on the remote, and even that light was gone. David Greenberg yawned, rolled his shoulders, and heaved himself off the couch. He stumbled sleepily through the darkness into the hall, taking care to keep his feet away from the corners of coffee tables and edges of rugs. It wouldn't do to wake his family so late at night. Last time that happened, Angela had spent the next morning talking to him in only annoyed grunts. David often wondered what had been going through his mind when he had agreed to marry such a light sleeper.  
He made it safely to the entrance to his room, all his toe bones in their correct places, and braced himself for the inevitable squeak that would come with pushing the door open. He didn't make it that far, however, when a shuffling of fabric and a small voice whispering, "Dad?" came from his left.  
"Mark," said David, watching the boy rub his tired eyes, "What are you doing up?"  
"Can't sleep," came the groggy reply, "'M scared."  
"Scared of what?"  
"The monster under m'bed."  
That was a new one, David thought. It had been years since such tales had frightened Mark. He sighed and put a hand on his son's shoulder, steering him back to his room. "Come on. Back to bed."  
The light in Mark's room was already switched on, although it seemed to do nothing to relax the boy. He hid behind his father's legs, eyeing the bed nervously.  
"Do you want me to check?" asked David, and Mark nodded.  
David climbed down on all fours and lifted the edge of the blanket so that he could see under. Behind him, Mark made a scared little noise.  
"It's okay, buddy. There's nothing under here. Come and see."  
Mark joined David and peeked underneath the bed, calming down when he saw that there was indeed nothing but dust and a pair of dirty socks.  
"Okay?"  
He nodded, and climbed up into bed. "But the monster," he said uncertainly, pulling the blankets up to his chin.  
"No monsters," David assured him, "The monster under your bed isn't real. Okay, buddy?"  
Mark looked much happier now. "Okay. Goodnight, Dad."  
"Night, Mark. Love you, buddy."  
"Love you too," Mark slurred, already half asleep.  
David ruffled his son's hair before leaving his bedside, flicking the light switch on his way out of the room. He managed to make it back to his own bedroom silently, and Angela didn't wake when he slid into bed beside her. He was asleep almost instantly.  
It was only a few short hours later when he awoke. The room was still dark, and at first he thought it was the darkness that had woken him. It seemed different than usual. Thicker, blacker, more crushing. He shivered, and curled himself into the blankets, trying to go back to sleep. Then he heard something. The sound of movement, rustling beneath him. Beneath the bed. Raspy breathing. A growling, rumbling voice.  
"I'm 'not real', he says. Show him real."  
Then cold fingers suddenly wrapped around his ankle and, before he could scream - though screaming certainly followed - they were pulling.  
Pulling him off the bed.  
Pulling him under.

**A/N: I know it's a short start, but I would love to hear your thoughts! Like I said above, critique is definitely welcome.**

**About updates - I'll try and upload the first chapter proper as soon as possible! After that, though, life is gonna get crazy busy so I'm not sure how regularly I'll be able to update. So, in advance, sorry if I leave any potentially interested readers hanging, and thank you for bearing with me!**

**I hope that in this and the following chapters I manage to get all the American terms and figures of speech right. I've felt really weird every time I've had to type 'mom' or 'cellphone', but hopefully it's worth it. Let me know if I miss anything!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Attracting Attention

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 1: Attracting Attention**

"I've found us a case."  
Two men, brothers, were sitting in a motel room. The man who had spoken was at the tiny table in the corner of the kitchenette, his nose inches from a laptop screen. He was the taller of the two, and his height often made strangers believe him to be older. The other man, who actually was the older brother, was lounging on one of the twin beds, his shoes still on and a bottle of beer in his hand. He looked up, away from the television, when the first man spoke.  
"A case?"  
"Yeah," said the taller-but-younger brother, "Listen to this. Town called Burgess, just a few hours from here. A couple of months ago, William Jones was found dead on his bedroom floor. He bled out when his feet were ripped off. And then again, just the other night, a man called David Greenberg. Same thing."  
"So, what," said the shorter-but-older brother, "serial killer with a foot fetish? You get weirdos like that all the time."  
"I don't think so. All doors and windows into the houses were locked. And this is weird - the most recent victim had his wife in the room with him when he was killed. She claims to have heard nothing, no struggle, and she didn't even realise what had happened until the next morning."  
The older brother raised his eyebrows over a mouthful of beer. "Okay, that is weird," he agreed, "Any connection between the vics?"  
"Uh, they were both men in their thirties, but apart from that… Different ethnic backgrounds, different jobs. Lived on opposite sides of town. Nothing I can tell."  
"Married? Any vindictive girlfriends?"  
"Greenberg had been with his wife for close to ten years, but Jones was single after he divorced four years ago. Wait…" He scrolled down the screen while the older brother watched him impatiently. "Both men had a kid under twelve. It says here that Greenberg's son Mark had to stay with his grandparents while the wife was questioned by police, and Jones's daughter Leah was the one who discovered his body. Leah has since moved out of state to live with her mother."  
The older brother pulled a face at that. Cases always seemed messier to him when kids were involved. "So are we going to go check it out?"  
"If we leave first thing tomorrow we can be there by midday." He shut his laptop with a gentle tap and turned in his seat.  
"Great. Well, I'm going to try and get at least a few hours sleep before we head out. See you bright and early, sunshine."

* * *

It was past midnight when winter came to Burgess.  
The streets were silent, all the town's inhabitants retired to bed for the night, and dark. Keen eyes might have been able to spot thin threads of glittering gold snaking into bedroom windows, if they were really looking. But there were no such eyes about.  
Then an icy chill swept across the edges of town, breezing quickly through the streets. The wind was soon followed by dark clouds that brought the first snowfall of the season. The snow dropped lightly but surely, slowly gathering in small piles in gutters and windowsills. Meanwhile, ice blossomed over every damp surface, and frost spread across streets and gardens and walls and windows. Quiet but enthusiastic laughter followed the frost wherever it sprung up, seemingly so spontaneously.  
By dawn, the entire town was blanketed in white ready for the early risers. And above it all, floating amongst the flurry of snowdrops, was a cheerful young man. He was small and skinny and very young, more of a boy than a man, really, and didn't seem to be dressed at all appropriately for the small storm that raged around him. Nevertheless, a wide smile lit his pale features, and as he floated on the cold wind he whooped and cheered. When the sun had risen enough to soak the town in pale blue light, the boy dropped down onto a rooftop, landing lightly on his bare feet, and surveyed his handiwork.  
"Not bad," he said to himself proudly. He held a long wooden staff in his hand and dragged the hooked end along the rooftop, where more ice appeared instantly. The boy grinned. He settled himself into a more comfortable crouching position by the chimney, his staff rested over his shoulder, and just watched as the town woke up.  
Initially there came the adults ready to head off for a day of work. Just a few, at first. It was a Saturday, so the streets weren't as busy as it would have been earlier in the week. Some of them saw the snow and ice awaiting them and their faces lit up underneath their winter hats and scarves. The boy atop the roof smiled. Other adults were less pleased by the weather, stomping their way to their cars and cursing angrily when the too-cold engines took several minutes to start. The boy scowled at seeing his work be unappreciated. The grumpy adults found the roads they took especially icy, and they were forced to drive slowly, unaware of the mischievous laughter overhead.  
Slightly later in the morning, the boy's happiness only grew when he saw the children begin to wake up and run outside to play in the snow. He launched himself off the roof, catching himself in the wind, and flew another lap around the town, dropping another bout of snow as he went. A few children caught sight of him, and waved enthusiastically. The small gestures made the boy happier than his earlier fun ever could. He saluted back at the kids with a wide smile as he soared above them.  
Winter had arrived.

**A/N: Another short one, as an introductory chapter. Future chapters will be longer.**

**Critique and reviews welcome! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Bad News For Fun

**Thanks for reviewing! I'm really glad you're enjoying this so far.**

**Futher A/N at end of chapter.**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 2: Bad News For Fun**

Saturdays meant sleep-ins. Or rather, they would, for other boys who didn't have little sisters. Unfortunately for Jamie, his sister was not only little but also enjoyed jumping on his bed and was wide awake. When he realised that she was going to persist no matter how growly he sounded when he told her to go away, he climbed out of bed and headed blearily for the kitchen.

He caught sight of his reflection in the microwave door as his mother set a bowl of Froot Loops in front of him. His normally wide eyes were squinting against sleep, accounting for the blurriness in his vision. His hair was sticking up all over the place. Jamie grumbled into his breakfast wordlessly. He hated early mornings.

The kitchen seemed brighter than usual. Jamie looked out the window to try and figure out why that was. There was a thin lining of snow pressing against the outside window pane. He stared at it dumbly for a few seconds, struggling against his sleepy state to decipher the meaning he knew was there.

"Snow," he said groggily, "'S bright."

Feeling pleased with himself for solving the mystery of the brightness, he tucked in to his breakfast. By the time his mother came bustling back into the kitchen with Sophie in tow, Jamie was feeling a bit more awake.

Mrs Bennet also glanced out the window, at the frozen front lawn and icy fence. "Did you see outside, Jamie? It looks like we got a visit from Jack Frost overnight."

Her words clicked after a moment and Jamie was instantly snapped out of his drowsiness. Abandoning his cereal, he raced to the window and pressed his nose against the cold glass. His eyes were now wide, searching the front yard. He was only a little disheartened when the only flash of blue he could find was Sophie's tricycle.

"Hey now, why the rush?" his mother asked him as he shot across the kitchen towards his room.

"Mom, can I go outside and play with my friends?"

"This early?" She gave him a surprised look, and then glanced at the wall clock. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. "You haven't even finished your breakfast."

"Not hungry," he said. He realised how restless he suddenly was, bouncing from foot to foot in the kitchen doorway. "Please, Mom?"

She looked uncertain, and worried. Jamie knew that look. All the grown-ups had been the same for a few months now. The thing with Leah's dad had shaken them all. It had taken a couple of weeks before Jamie was even let into his own front yard by himself, and his mother still insisted on walking him to and from school every day. They had finally started settling down again. Jamie and his friends had been allowed to go to the park up the street together again, as long as one of their parents were around and they stayed out in the open. But after the other day, with Mark's dad…

"Please?" he tried again, giving his mother the most innocent look he could muster, "I promise, we'll all stay together and we'll only go to the park and we'll be careful!"

Jamie had been scared at first. The panic from the grown-ups had a way of rubbing off on him and the other neighbourhood children. Now, though, he was sure that they'd be safe. If Jack was back, Jamie knew he wouldn't let anything hurt anyone.

His mother finally relented, with a heavy sigh. "Okay, Jamie. But make sure to rug up. It's cold outside."  
He smiled brightly at her. "I will!"

It took him a while to dig out his winter clothes from the back of his wardrobe. Longer still to locate his hat and boots. Winter had come suddenly, springing on Burgess like Sophie sprung onto Jamie's bed that morning. It was shocking in its spontaneity. But, he supposed, that was usually the way when Jack came to town.

The second his coat was no longer inside-out, and his gloves were on the correct hands, Jamie was dashing out the door. Cupcake lived closest, so he went to her house first and banged on her front door. She answered it herself and stood before him, large and intimidating. The appearance was deceptive, though. Cupcake was as sweet as her name implied, once you got to know her. And when Jamie exclaimed, "Jack Frost is here!" her face lit up with the brightest smile that she was capable of. She took almost no time in pulling her winter clothes over her dress, and shouting a goodbye to her parents, before she and Jamie ran back out to the street.

The rest of their friends were already outside and running towards the park. The group had grown since the bogeyman incident from a couple of years ago. There was now over a dozen kids that knew exactly who brought the snow and ice, and their joint understanding threw them together into a strange mix of best friends. Most of them were gathered in the park now, around the bronze statue of Thadeus Burgess, and the excitement in the air was thick.

"Jack Frost! Jack Frost!" some of them chanted, explaining to the others unnecessarily.

"Where is he?"

"Do you see him?"

"He should be right here!"

"Maybe it just snowed without him?"

"No, it's still only November! Do you really think it would snow this much so soon if it wasn't him?"

"Where is he?"

Jamie was also straining to see. He looked at the trees, the statue, the snow, the sky. He tried to find a streak of blue and brown, or an unnatural gust of wind, or a bubbling laugh. All telltale signs of Jack's presence.

He was so busy looking that he didn't see the snowball until it splatted right into his face. An excited laugh burst out of his mouth, and he didn't have to look any further.

Jack Frost floated down from the tree and came to a landing right in front of the group. Everyone had been holding their breaths in silence since the snowball had hit Jamie, watching Jack in awe.

"Hey kids," he said, "Miss me?"

Then he swept his staff along the ground, the action throwing up snow to rain down over their heads and forming more snowballs to attack each other with. The amazed silence dissipated immediately, to be replace by happy shouts and shrieks and laughter. Jamie wasted no time in joining the fun, pelting snow at his friends as often as he was hit himself. He might have imagined it, but he thought that Jack, dancing around between or above the group of friends, was favouring him with ammunition over any of the others. The sparkle in blue eyes when they found his own, though, gave nothing away.

They played for a solid hour, by the end of which everyone bar Jack Frost himself was utterly exhausted. Most of the children flopped back into the snow, not minding the cold in the least. A few of them retired to the much less tiring task of building a snowman. Jack urged them to get back up and keep playing, but to no avail. He didn't seem at all put out by it, however, and there was a grin still on his face when he took a seat atop the highest ledge of the statue's base, hugging his staff across his chest. Jamie joined him as best as he could, sitting on the lowest ledge and leaning his head back to rest on the plaque.

"Thanks, Jack. That was so much fun!"

Jack's grin widened. "No worries, kiddo. It is my job, after all."

"I've missed you." And how could he not? Despite his group of friends having grown over the recent years, Jamie still considered Jack his best friend. "Where were you over summer? Or for the rest of the last ten months, for that matter?"

"Ten months? Was it really?" Jack sounded honestly surprised, and then Jamie heard him counting the months under his breath. "Huh. Sorry, Jamie. I guess time flies."

"You didn't answer my question," Jamie said accusingly. He wanted to hear everything. After a long absence, Jack always returned with exciting stories from all over the world. Tales of adventures, and international happenings, and funny pranks were always what Jamie looked most forward to.

"I was south, mostly," Jack admitted, "Although I worked on a great blizzard in London in September. You should have seen everyone's faces! I spent a few days at the Pole last week. Cleared out quickly, though. With Christmas right around the corner, those elves are unbearable! North suggested I find myself my own home. What do you think, Jamie? Maybe I'll build an ice castle, or something. You'll be welcome to visit anytime, of course."

Jamie felt his eyes go wide at the suggestion. A guest at Jack Frost's house? "Really?" he breathed.

"Sure. It's the least I can do. I'm thinking I'll check out Antarctica when I'm done here. Great views down that way. Location, location. And it'll keep me busy next summer. There's only so much snow I can spread in Australia before Bunny gets suspicious."

Jamie giggled. He loved the cool, oversized, boomerang-wielding rabbit as much as the next kid, but the stories of the pranks Jack pulled on him were always amusing. And regardless of how much he laughed at poor Bunny's misfortune, he could always count on finding the very best and most intricately painted eggs in every egg hunt.

Jack had gone quiet, and when Jamie looked back up he found him watching the other kids with a small frown over his eyes.

"Only ten of you," he said, "Where's Mark and Leah?"

At his question, a solemn silence fell over the group. Cupcake and Sarah stopped building their snowman, and everyone who had been laying in the snow sat up slowly.

Jack jumped down from his perch on the statue. He took in the expressions on the children's faces and Jamie saw the hands grasping his staff tighten.

"Don't tell me." He swallowed nervously and the ever-cheerful gleam in his eyes dimmed slightly. "They haven't stopped..?"

"They still believe in you," Jamie assured him quickly, and Jack relaxed minutely, "At least, I think they do. It's just…" He broke off, uncertain how to continue. How did one tell the Guardian of Fun that two people had been violently killed?

"Something bad happened," said Monty, shuffling his feet.

"Bad?"

"Their - their dads," said Pippa. She hugged herself and looked at the snow on the ground before finishing in a whisper. "Their dads…died."

Jack looked shocked, and then horrified. "What?"

It was worse than Jamie had been expecting. Jack never looked right without the wide grin on his face, or the laughter in his eyes, or the carefree way he held himself. To see it all gone, replaced by hurt and horror, was almost scary.

"They were both killed," Jamie explained. He felt that he needed to be the one to tell Jack this, no matter how much he hated to. "Mr Jones a few months ago, and Mr Greenberg just the other night."

"Are Leah and Mark okay?"

"Leah moved in with her mom not long ago. I don't think Mark's too good. None of us have seen him since Wednesday."

Jack pushed a trembling hand through his windblown white hair, messing it up more than usual. His staff was held tightly to his body, as though he was trying to hide behind it. "I don't… How could this have happened?" he asked. Jamie didn't know whether he was talking to himself or not, but he answered anyway.

"Jack, there's something in this town. Something bad." His friends all exchanged nervous looks, but a murmur of agreement rose up amongst them. "Something scary."

His eyes sharpened at that. Jamie recognised the look, and knew what it meant. Jack was no longer merely the children's friend, nor just the Spirit of Winter and Fun. He was a Guardian, and he was prepared to protect the children.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop this," he said, guilt flickering in his voice, "But you don't need to be scared, okay? You're all going to be alright. I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt."

It was exactly the reassurance that the children needed. Although most of them knew already that Jack would protect them and their families, hearing him confirm it allowed everyone to brighten up considerably. When they all smiled at him, even Jack looked rather happier. He twirled his staff up over his shoulder.

"Jamie," he said, "Mark lives in the little house with the red roof, right?"

"Right."

"Thanks, kiddo. I'll go talk to him. You kids keep playing." He waved his fingers at them, sending snowflakes floating towards ten different noses. "Have fun."

He jumped back onto the statue and used it to propel himself into the air, and he was gone.

**A/N: The chapters are starting to get a bit longer!**

**A huge thank you goes to 'A Little Lost 1', 'miraeyeteeth', and 'Kagirinai-Eternal' for my first reviews, and especially to the latter for their advice regarding formatting. Thank you!**

As always, critique and general reviews are very welcome! Thanks for reading - I hope you're still enjoying it!


	4. They Aren't Grown-Ups

**Thanks again for the awesome reviews!**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 3: They Aren't Grown-Ups**

He ran instead of flying. He used the rooftops and powerlines and lampposts under his feet to guide him across town, and he took the long way. He was procrastinating, he knew. He could easily jump into the wind and be at Mark's house in mere seconds. Instead he ran.

Jack didn't even realise just how much he was holding himself back until he passed the house for a fifth time. He skidded to a stop on a neighbouring roof, ice dragging along after his feet. He stood there for a full minute, and the ruffling of his hair in the wind was his only movement. Then he crouched down and leaned his forehead against his staff to think.

"How could this have happened?" he asked again through gritted teeth.

How could he have let it happen?

Jack groaned, so faintly that the sound was almost lost in the wind. If he had been in Burgess instead of picking on Bunny or lazing around the Pole, he could have stopped whatever had done this. He could have saved Mr Greenberg and Mr Jones. They would still be alive, and their children would currently be playing in the snow with Jack himself and the other kids. But he hadn't been there.

"Some Guardian I turned out to be," Jack muttered.

The wind whipped around his thin body, tugging at the blue fabric of his hoodie and messing up his hair. Snow swirled around him, until he told it to settle down. It was enough of a distraction to snap him out of his guilty thoughts, however. He shook his head in shame at his own moping.

What did he think he was doing, feeling sorry for himself? Just next door, there was a little boy who was grieving his dad. Jack could help the boy.

That thought was all it took for him to jump onto the tall fence separating the two houses, and from there onto a window ledge. He peered through the glass, into Mark's bedroom. The boy was in there, sitting in the middle of his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, and staring at the astronaut design woven into his blanket. Or perhaps he was merely staring at nothing.

At seeing Mark looking so utterly heartbroken, Jack couldn't have hesitated if he'd tried. He reached out a thin, pale finger, and tapped on the window. Patterned frost spread out over the glass from where he touched it.

The sound seemed to take a few moments to register with Mark, who then looked up slowly. He blinked once, then twice, and recognition appeared on his face. He scrambled off the bed and across the room to open the window.

"Jack Frost?" he asked, his voice dully surprised.

Jack, almost nose-to-nose with the boy, forced a grin. "Hey, Mark. Mind if I come in?"

"Okay." Mark smiled back uncertainly and stepped to the side so that Jack could climb in.  
Jack rested his staff against the wall before taking a cross-legged seat on the bed, Mark sitting back down in front of him.

"I'm sorry about your dad." I'm sorry. "How are you holding up?" He cringed internally at how stupid the question sounded even to his ears.

The boy shrugged. "They all said that. The cops and other grown-ups. I'm okay, I guess."

Jack winced at his words. They weren't a lie. He had spent centuries weaving enough of his own lies to be able to tell the difference. Mark spoke now with dull honesty, and it was much, much worse.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he offered half-heartedly.

Mark looked him directly in the eye, his small hands twisting around the hem of his pyjama top. "The grown-ups said that, too."

"Well, I'm not a grown-up," said Jack, "Would a grown-up be able to do this?"

And he conjured a handful of snow which he blew into the air, and the two of them were suddenly surrounded by crystal snowflakes. Mark watched each speck of snow float around him in awe. What Jack thought was the potential for a tiny smile touched the boy's lips. Mark reached up to try and catch some of the flakes, shivering a little when they landed on his skin.

Jack smiled at the display. He wasn't prepared when Mark lunged forward and hugged him tightly around the waist. He stilled in surprise, unsure of what to do. Mark's face pressed into his hoodie, and his small body trembled. Jack thought at first that he was shivering from the cold. But then he heard the quiet sobs against his chest. Now he really didn't know what to do. He was used to bringing fun to already happy children. He'd never had to actually comfort a crying kid before. The watery gasps brought Jack's arms instinctively down, and he could only hug Mark back.

The boy cried for a long time. After a while there weren't any tears left, and after a little longer his sobs died down as well. Then he was just trembling and Jack realised that it really was from the cold this time. He pulled away and wrapped the astronaut blanket around Mark's shoulders. Mark hiccupped a couple of times and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. The wet patch of tears on the front of Jack's hoodie had already frozen over.

"It's okay." It was anything but okay. Jack repeated himself anyway. "You're going to be okay. Tell you what, Mark. How about a snow day, just for you? To take your mind off things. I know it's only Saturday, but I'll make it a good one. I promise. Do you still have that old sled?"

Mark sniffed and nodded, but didn't look certain. Jack persisted, though. He knew better than anyone what a bit of fun could do for a kid.

"I'll have it ready by tomorrow morning. Bring your sled to the park and we'll have some fun. Your friends miss you, too - Jamie and the others. Sound good?"

"Okay, I guess."

There were voices outside Mark's door, and then a knock. "Mark?" came Mrs Greenberg's voice, "Honey, are you awake? There's some special agents here who want to talk to you."

Mark's face fell instantly. "Just a minute!"

Jack wondered how much of the last three days had been spent talking to cops. He took it as his cue to leave, however, untangling his long limbs and stepping off the bed. He retrieved his staff, which turned blue with ice at his touch, and swung himself onto the windowsill in the same motion. He turned back to Mark one more time before leaving.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Take care, kid."

Mark waved, and Jack leapt out of the window, closing it behind him and leaving a slight fluttering of green curtains in his wake.

There was a car parked outside the house that hadn't been there before. It was shiny, black, and timeless. Jack wasn't usually one to take much notice of most human vehicles, but he was timeless himself and so nodded appreciatively. "Nice ride." It was all the attention he paid it, because he was already moving on. If he had an extra special snow day to prepare, he thought he had better be getting to work.

* * *

The brothers arrived in Burgess just before midday, which was much earlier than they expected. Even the ice and snow on the roads - and surely it was far too early in the year for that - did little to slow their journey.

They stopped to check in at the first motel they could find before heading further into the town. Most cases had them spending at least one night in the area, and they didn't think this one would be an exception. The motel also gave them a chance to change into their old but neat suits, giving them the appearance of a pair of Very Important People. The appearance was just as vital as any fake ID or cover story. The one thing the motel didn't provide them with was rest. They had no time for that. After firing up their laptop and utilising the motel's offered free wifi to check the address of David Greenberg's wife, they were back in the car and on the icy streets.

"This is the place?" the older brother, whose name was Dean, asked, pulling up outside a small brick house with a roof that was visibly red beneath the snow. It wasn't a particularly noteworthy house, and had they not been searching specifically for it, the brothers wouldn't have told it apart from the rest of the neighbourhood.

"This is it."

They checked that they had their fake IDs and badges on them and climbed out of the car. Dean immediately shivered in the cold. "Man, it's freezing! It's still just November, right?"

The younger brother, whose name was Sam, nodded, brushing off the cold with a shake of his limbs. He led the way up the path to the Greenbergs' front door, and knocked sharply. When the woman answered, they already had their badges out and ready.

The woman seemed small, and it was difficult to tell whether she really was small or if it was just because of the way she was hunched into herself. Her blonde hair looked to have been tied back hurriedly, and wisps were escaping from the band. She also looked older than she was, as though exhaustion had aged her rapidly in a short amount of time.

The brothers had seen enough grieving widows in their time to know that this woman was the one they were looking for.

"Mrs Greenberg?" Sam asked anyway. He had to try hard not to avoid the sad but sharp eyes that looked up at him. This was always the difficult part.

The woman nodded. "Angela," she corrected him. Her voice was more stable than he had expected, only slightly hoarse. She was a strong one, Sam thought. He showed her his badge, and felt his brother beside him do the same.

"We're from the FBI. My name is Agent Carter, and this is my partner, Agent Reid. If you don't mind, we just have a few questions about what happened the other day."

Angela stared at them for a few moments, and Sam thought for a second that she was going to turn them away. But then she nodded and invited them inside.

"I didn't expect the FBI to take such an interest in what happened," she admitted, leading them to the living room. She sat in an armchair, leaving the couch free for the fake Agents Carter and Reid.

"You'd be surprised what catches our attention," said Sam, offering a small smile, "Mrs Greenberg - Angela - could you explain to us exactly what happened when your husband was killed?"

"Well," she began, and then took a moment to apparently collect herself, "it's like I told the police. I went to bed early and David stayed up to watch tv. I didn't hear him come to bed, so it was probably late. And then on Wednesday morning I woke up and he wasn't in the bed. It was barely dawn, and David's never up that early. So I got up and saw him just lying there." She broke off with a choked gasp and held a shaking hand to her chest. Sam nodded encouragingly. "I thought at first that he'd fallen out of bed or something. So I got closer to try and wake him. And that was when I stepped in the blood. The blood - it was everywhere." She closed her eyes as though to block out the images.

The brothers gave her their best sympathetic looks.

"And you said you didn't hear anything?" asked Dean.

She shook her head. "No, nothing. You'd think I would have, though, right? I mean, I'm not even a heavy sleeper, usually. We had to take the clock out of the hallway, because the ticking used to wake me. And surely, he would have screa-" A shuddering gasp and hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." The brothers exchanged glances and Sam continued. "You were taken into police custody for thirty-six hours. Do you know why the police let you go?"

Angela clenched her hands into her woollen cardigan. She looked suddenly defensive. "Couldn't you find this out from the police?"

"We just want to hear it from your point of view."

"They said that the coroner found something. A DNA thing?" She shrugged, still holding onto her cardigan tightly. "They didn't say exactly. Whatever it was, it put me in the clear."

The brothers glanced at each other, and communicated silently that they would pay the coroner a visit next.

"Thank you, Angela. Just a few more questions," said Sam, "Did your husband have any enemies?"  
Although her body had relaxed with the change of subject, her answering tone was confused and somewhat alarmed. "Um, no. No, I don't think so. He would have told me if he did."

"How had he been acting before he died?" asked Dean, "Did you notice anything strange about his behaviour?"

"No," Angela said again, "I mean, since the first killing a few months ago he was a little on edge. But so was everyone. That kind of thing just doesn't happen here."

"Did you or your husband know the previous victim?"

"William Jones? Not really. I mean, we saw him around town every now and then, but we weren't really on speaking terms."

"Can you think of anything at all that might have connected them?"

Angela thought hard, and chewed on her fingernails. "I guess our kids went to school together. There's a year between them, though, and Mark never mentioned interacting with Leah at all. Poor girl," she added sadly, "She was the one who found the body. If it was anything like what happened to David… It's not something a child should see. I can only imagine - Mark's been bad enough as it is. Barely left his room, even when he was staying with my mother."

Sam coughed uncomfortably. "Would you mind if we talked to your son? Ask him a couple of questions?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "But don't expect him to say much. He's been dealing with police coming in and out of the house constantly over the last few days."

Angela led them into the hallway, stopping outside the room at the far end. The brightly coloured plaque on the door loudly proclaimed it to be 'Mark's Room'.

"Try not to upset him, and keep it quick," she told the brothers, before knocking. "Mark? Honey, are you awake? There's some special agents here who want to talk to you."

"Just a minute!" replied a young boy's voice dully, followed by some shuffling and squeaking of bed springs. Then, "Come in."

Angela pushed the door open gently and went in. The fake agents followed her, into the bedroom that was typical of any ten-year-old child. The child in question was huddled on his bed, a thick blanket around his shoulders. He was staring out the window on the other side of his room when the three adults entered, but soon looked up. His eyes were puffy and watery, a telltale sign that he'd recently been crying.

"Honey," said Angela, going over to him and smoothing his hair off his forehead, "this is Agent Carter and Agent Reid."

"Hey, Mark," said Sam, "We just want to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?"

The watery eyes looked him and his brother over. "Okay," Mark said quietly.

"Mind if I sit?" Sam gestured to the small blue chair under the study desk by the wall. At Mark's nod, he spun it to face the bed and lowered himself onto it, feeling far too big with his legs squashed up almost to his chest. Dean didn't sit, instead opting to hover by the door and look at the toys on the shelf.

"Do you like space?" he asked, prodding a small figurine of an astronaut.

Mark seemed surprised by the question, but nodded slowly. "Aren't you going to say that you're sorry about my dad?"

"Why would we say that?" asked Sam.

"Everybody says that. All the other cops and grown-ups."

Sam saw Dean smirk and poke at more of the kid's toys. "Who says we're grown-ups? Do grown-ups like playing with spaceships?" And he took a model of one off the shelf and waved it around his head to prove his point. A bit of plastic promptly broke off and he hastily shoved it back, withdrawing his hands so that they hung safely by his sides.

Despite one of his toys having just been broken in front of him, Mark looked somehow happier. But only a little. "Mom," he said to Angela, who was still stroking his hair, "you don't need to hang around. I can talk to them by myself."

She looked surprised, pulling away instantly as though electrocuted. "Are you sure, Honey?"

Mark nodded and Angela left the room, but left the door open wide. Sam heard her retreat to the kitchen. He was about to ask the boy his first question, but was beaten to it by Mark's own small voice.

"It was my fault."

The brothers started in bewilderment at the tiny-voiced confession. They were quick to collect themselves, but they both stared more intently at the boy than before.

"What makes you say that, Mark?" asked Sam.

The boy hugged his knees tighter, the blanket slipping off his shoulders slightly. "I made him angry."

"Who?" Dean asked quickly, "Your dad?"

"No." Mark shook his head. His voice was quieter than ever now, barely a whisper. "The monster."  
Sam's body tensed and he saw Dean's hand twitch towards where his gun was concealed. "What monster?"

Mark looked nervous. "You two aren't like the other cops," he said, "You're nice. I don't want the monster to get angry at you, too."

"Why?" asked Sam, "Is the monster here?"

"Not anymore. It went away. I don't know where it is. But…" He swallowed and looked at them with nervous eyes. "Leah told me at school that she used to hear it at night, too, before it hurt her dad."

Sam stood up so that he could move over to the bed and place a comforting hand on Mark's shoulder. "We won't let the monster hurt anyone else, okay? Agent Reid and I - we'll stop it."

The boy's eyes were worried, as was the way he chewed on his bottom lip. "You'll make it angry."

"Yeah, well," said Dean, "it made us angry first."

Sam wanted to ask Mark more questions, but he also didn't want to distress the kid any further. "Thanks for your help, Mark. And if the monster comes back," he added, digging a small business-like card out of his jacket pocket, "give us a call. Any time, day or night. Okay?"

"Okay." He climbed off the bed and went over to his desk, where he tucked the card into a safe spot under his lamp. There was a photograph of him and an older man - his father - next to it. "Um, I need to go to the bathroom. I think Mom's in the kitchen if you want to talk to her."

He hurried out of the room, almost tripping on his long pyjama bottoms in his rush. The brothers were left alone.

"So," said Sam quietly, "what do you think?"

"What do I think? I think there's definitely something weird going on. Two different kids talk about hearing monsters and then end up with dead daddies? Sounds right up our alley."

"No, what do you think caused it? Ghost?"

"Could be. Kids are supposed to be more sensitive to ghost activity, right?"

"It makes sense," Sam agreed, "But it still doesn't explain why Mrs Greenberg didn't hear her husband have his feet ripped off right next to her."

"So you think it might be something else?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But it doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard of before."

"A brand new, limited edition monster, then," said Dean, "Awesome."

Sam sighed, already seeing the piles of research ahead of them. Or rather, ahead of him, while his brother kicked back with a beer. "So, we talk to the coroner next?"

"You got it. Find out exactly what this 'DNA thing' he found was."

They started to leave Mark's room, but something caught Sam's eye before they could make it very far. It was on the bed, inches from where Mark had been sitting, and the pale light streaming in through the window glinted off it. Sam nudged his brother and pointed at it.

"What's that?" asked Dean.

Sam bent over the bed to inspect it. It was shiny and bluish-silvery, and when he tapped it, it was cold to the touch. "It's…frost," he said in surprise.

"So what? It's a cold day."

"Inside?" asked Sam sceptically, "You don't think Mark's monster could have left it behind, do you?"

"A monster that targets kids, kills their dads by ripping their feet off without waking the Mrs, and then leaves frost on the kids' beds? Right. Awesome," he said again, "We'd better be off to see the coroner soon, then. You're gonna need plenty of time to research."

**A/N: Once again, reviews and critique welcome! You guys have been great with it so far. Please remember to tell me if I'm doing anything wrong!**

**Thanks for reading - I hope you're all still enjoying it!**


	5. The Burgess Legend

**Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback and favourites and follows! It's actually so awesome that you're enjoying this.**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 4: The Burgess Legend**

It was snowing when they returned to the car, and snowing heavily when they got to the hospital.

The coroner was a small, balding man with a constant air of nervousness and a rather high-pitched voice. Nevertheless, once he saw the brothers' fake badges, he was more than friendly and helpful. Sam got the impression that the man didn't deal with the FBI often, and that their visit was a very big deal. He almost felt bad for being a fake.

"It's a terrible business," said the coroner solemnly, though his face betrayed his excitement, "This kind of thing never happens around here. I must admit, though, that the cases are just fascinating. A huge change for me. Most of the bodies I see merely died from sickness or old age. It's been years since I got even an accidental death. Safest town around, Burgess is."

The brothers tried to show interest in the man's ramblings.

"Until now," said Dean.

"Well, yes," replied the coroner sheepishly, "Like I said, a huge change."

"We were told that you found some evidence on Mr Greenberg's body that cleared his wife of suspicion," said Sam in an attempt to get them back on track, "Can you tell us what that was?"

The coroner dug through a thick pile of paperwork on his desk for a folder and cleared his throat. "I took samples from the, uh, wounds," he said, "And I found… Well, it explains why the police never found his feet. Here, take a look."

Sam skimmed over the file. "Wait, does that say..?"

"Saliva?" asked Dean, peeking over at the file.

"Taken from the skin of the ankles, as well as the wounds themselves," said the coroner, "Mr Greenberg didn't just have his feet ripped off. They were eaten."

The brothers glanced at each other, and the coroner was too wrapped up in his excitement to notice.

"I don't know about you," said Dean as they left the hospital ten minutes later, "but I'm with the police on this one. Mrs Greenberg doesn't really strike me as the foot-cannibal type."

"Do you think it's weird?" asked Sam, ignoring his brother.

"What, that we have a monster with a disturbing attraction to feet? Hell yeah, I think it's weird."

"Not that," he replied patiently. They arrived back at the car and he climbed into the passenger side.

"The way everyone seems so shocked about what happened. Because 'things like this just don't happen around here.'"

"I dunno, maybe. But name one other place where things like this do happen. The feet thing, that is."

"But it's more than that," Sam pressed, "The coroner said that even accidents are rare here."

"So the town has a good record. That doesn't exactly scream monster activity."

Sam wasn't going to drop it, though. The idea was in his head and it wasn't getting out so easily. "There's a library a few blocks away. I saw it as we were driving in. Let's go check out the public records."

"Are you forgetting that we have a monster problem on our hands?" asked Dean, but he started the car anyway, "Foot snacks, icy beds. Sound familiar at all?"

"I know, I know," said Sam, "I just have a weird feeling about this."

"Fine."

Although the library wasn't far away, it took a while to get there. The snowfall was getting thick, and the roads were slippery with ice. Dean swore repeatedly.

It was with great relief that they entered the warm library building, each brother shivering and shaking snow out of their hair.

"Seriously, this weather can't be normal for this time of year!" huffed Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the wet squelching of his shoes as he made his way over to the reference desk. The librarian was as helpful as the coroner had been, gladly showing the brothers to the public record archives and offering to help them in their search. They waved her off politely, and Sam wondered whether everyone in Burgess was so friendly. Having met a few of its citizens now, he felt sorry. This town didn't deserve to have such tragedies plague it.

"So what are we looking for?" asked Dean, staring with distaste down at the huge book of old newspapers that sat in front of him.

"Anything unusual," Sam answered, already turning over the first page of his own album and reading.

"That's very helpful, Mr O-Vague-One."

They spent hours flipping through the pages, but yielded no results. No mysterious deaths or disappearances, or unexplained sightings. Only a small handful of accidental deaths, and a big deal had apparently been made out of those. The town was pretty boring, all things considered.

The librarian returned at five-thirty to tell them that they were closing in half an hour, so it would be a good idea to start returning the books and files to where they belonged. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she added.

Sam shook his head. "Not quite," he said, "But thanks for your help."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What were you after?"

"It's complicated. I'm surprised, though, with such a long history your town hasn't had many notable events."

The librarian bristled at that. "I wouldn't say that's entirely true. Just because we aren't riddled with tragedy, it hardly means that we aren't noteworthy. Did you read about our founder, Thadeus Burgess? Some interesting stories right there. His statue is in the main park. Or what about the part where we were voted safest town in the state? There's a reason so many families live here. And, of course, we are well-known for our amazing winters."

"Yeah, about that," said Sam, "Is it normal for winter to arrive so early? It looks like a you're about to get a blizzard out there, and it's not even December yet."

"We always get snow around this time of year," said the librarian, "The kids love it, and the out-of-towners will start coming in soon. The lake is a popular tourist destination."

"What's so special about the lake?"

"Didn't you know?" She seemed surprised. "It's quite famous around these parts. For as long as the town has been established, back to the time of Thadeus himself, the lake has remained frozen. No-one has ever seen it thawed out."

Sam exchanged a surprised look with his brother. That definitely qualified as weird. He also couldn't help but feel rather smug. "There wasn't anything in the old papers about that," he said.

The librarian shrugged her thin shoulders, unable to give an explanation.

"Does anyone know why the lake's that way?" asked Dean.

"Something to do with the bacteria?" the librarian suggested, in a way that made it clear that she had no idea, "I'm sure there's a scientific explanation for it. Of course, a few legends have sprung up over it throughout the years."

"Legends?" Sam's interest was most certainly piqued now. He shot Dean a look, as if to say, 'I told you so.'

"They keep people entertained," she explained, "The one I heard the most when I was young was that back in the middle of winter in the early eighteenth, perhaps late seventeenth, century, a couple of kids drowned there. Or maybe they froze to death. It changes with whoever tells the story. Basically, they died there. And the story goes that the ghosts of the dead children keep the lake frozen all year round, to save other kids from sharing the same fate. Some people extend the story, to say that the ghosts protect the town, and that's why we're so safe. A couple of guardian angels, if you will."

Now they were getting somewhere, thought Sam. He quickly thanked the librarian once more, and he and Dean braced themselves for the biting cold that would be waiting for them outside. It didn't disappoint.

It was dark already, and snowing as steadily as ever. The brothers drove carefully, squinting through the mess of snow and darkness. They found a diner near where their motel was, and once Dean saw that they did indeed serve burgers he deemed it an adequate place to have dinner. It was then that they discussed what the librarian had told them.

"Do you think it's connected?" asked Dean around a mouthful of his Big Burgess Burger.

"I don't know. If whatever's killing these people is the kids from the legend, then why did they just start now? They would've been around for over three hundred years."

"I dunno, man. Am I expected to understand how ghosts think? Maybe all that time sent them crazy."  
Sam considered it. "But if they really did spend all that time protecting people? I mean, they can't be all bad, right?"

"I say that we pay a visit to that lake, see if we can turn up any EMF activity," said Dean. Then he glanced out the diner windows, at the heavy snow that was still falling, and amended, "Tomorrow."

Back at the motel, Sam sat on his bed with his laptop on his knee. He had already Googled 'children drowning in Burgess' and it had turned up a surprising number of results. After a bit of digging, it even turned up some relevant results.

"Hey, listen to this," he called over to his brother, who had just come out of the bathroom, "A journal entry from Jonathan Bennett, 1892. It's the earliest record of the legend I can find."

"What's it say?" asked Dean with a damp towel over his head.

"Um, okay, check this out - the Overland children, a brother and sister, drowned in the lake in the early seventeen-hundreds, no exact date known. Their bodies were never found. That'll make things difficult if we need to burn their bones. Bennett says that the legend started out as a warning by parents for other children, 'be careful at the lake or you'll end up like those Overland kids', even though the lake never thawed. The legend later went that the spirits of the children haunted the town, but they were never sighted. Apparently they were especially protective of kids. He says that they are neutral around most adults, but… Oh, look here. If children are threatened by adults, the spirits take vengeance."

"You think that's what we're looking at here? Maybe Greenberg and Jones weren't the dads of the year that they were made out to be."

"It would explain why Mark felt so guilty," agreed Sam, "When he blamed himself for making the monster angry."

"I think we need to go have another chat with that kid," said Dean. He turned the tv off and rolled over on his stomach, his face pressed into the mattress. "Tomorrow."

They didn't get a whole lot of sleep that night. Outside, the wind howled and swirled around the motel, rattling the windows violently. Sam had been right about the blizzard. At about three in the morning, though, the wind and snow subsided. It was as sudden as the build-up had been gradual, and had the brothers been awake enough to look outside, they would have seen that thick piles of snow layered the ground.

* * *

The snow day was well and truly prepared.

Jack allowed the wind to calm down, and stopped the snowfall as soon as he was satisfied that the local school would be closed for a couple of days at least. He grinned as he looked out over the results of a hard day's work. Yes, that would cheer Mark up.

He spent the rest of the night patrolling the suburbs, twirling his staff and skipping on powerlines. When the golden threads of dreamsand appeared overhead, he smiled and nudged some towards Mark's window. Lord knew the boy needed sweet dreams.

It was only one or two hours later that the scream alerted him.

Straightening in alarm, Jack strained his ears for the source of the noise. It was faint, even in the silence that had followed Jack's blizzard. But… there it was. He rode the wind over to the correct street, and then it was easy to find the right house. The screams grew louder, and more choked.

The window was locked. Jack looked in and felt sick at the sight. The screaming woman was on the floor, scratching at the carpet and struggling against something that was pulling her under the bed. Jack couldn't make out what the something was. But he could smell the blood from outside, rusty and metallic and sickening. He tried pulling the window open, scraping at the glass. Nothing.

Desperate, he flew over to the next window. A child's room. He rapped loudly, and eventually the girl inside woke up. His heart froze over at seeing who it was. Not poor Sarah. She was such a sweet girl, and had been best friends with Cupcake since the two were in pre-school.

Sarah rushed over and opened the window. "Jack Frost? What are you doing here?"

He was already inside and running for her door. "Sarah, go next door now. Wake your neighbours, tell them to call the police, or an ambulance, and stay there."

"Jack, what?" She sounded confused, and scared.

"Go!"

She promptly did as she was told, although with tear-filled eyes. Jack wished he had time to comfort her, but he was already bursting into her parents' room.

Sarah's mother couldn't see him, and the man in the bed was still fast asleep. The woman was still screaming and struggling, but Jack could see that she was becoming weak and her efforts were dying down. He pointed his staff under the bed and shot a blast of ice at whatever was under there. A yelp filled the air, and then silence. The woman stopped struggling.

Jack crouched down low so that he could see under the bed, his eyes sharp as they peered into the darkness. There was nothing there. He supposed that it had fled somehow after he'd hit it. Sighing, he turned back to the woman. There was no doubt that she would need medical attention, although there wasn't much he could offer until an ambulance got there. When he saw her, though, he stopped.

She was still. She was silent. Her eyes, glassy with terrified tears, were open wide and unseeing. Her nails still dug into the carpet, even though her hands were slack. Blood spread out around her legs, soaking into the floor.

Jack heard a small cry and it took a second to realise that he had made the noise. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he backed into the wall by the bedroom door and sank down to the floor. He thought that he didn't have any strength left in his entire body, but he somehow was gripping his staff tightly in both hands. He almost felt cold, and he hadn't felt cold in over three hundred years. He wanted to look anywhere but at the dead woman in front of him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

It didn't take long for the ambulance and police to get there. Their arrival woke the woman's husband. The tortured cry that the man let out on discovering what had happened to his wife chilled Jack to the bone. Jack stayed by the wall, invisible, and watched the police work until the sun started rising.

Sarah, he thought numbly. The single name in his mind pulled him away from the crime scene and out of the house. The light was on in the neighbour's kitchen. Looking inside, he saw Sarah sitting at the table, a mug of hot chocolate untouched in front of her. As Jack watched, the old woman who lived there wrapped the girl up in a tight hug, and Sarah cried into her shoulder. Jack left before she caught sight of him. The frost spirals on the window was the only sign that he had been there.

**A/N: I think you all get the idea now - reviews and critique welcome! I love reading your feedback about as much as actually writing this story. And I love writing this a lot!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	6. Cold Stories

**Once again, a huge, huge thank you to everyone who's showing interest in this! You're all so amazing!**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 5: Cold Stories**

"Get up," said Sam, kicking Dean's bed.

His brother jolted awake, reaching for the gun under his mattress. When he found no immediate threat, he glanced at the ticking alarm clock between the beds and groaned, smooshing his face back under his pillow.

"Somebody had better be dying, Sammy," he growled. The effect was killed, though, when his voice came out muffled and a bit nasally. "Damn it, it isn't even six yet."

"Somebody's dead," Sam replied, and felt satisfied when his brother lifted his head back up. "Another victim, Mrs Tina Birch. Two hours ago."

Dean took no time getting ready, and then they were on their way to the crime scene. The snow had stopped overnight, making for a clear, bright morning. And despite the overnight blizzard, the roads were mostly clear. Dean managed to navigate the car easily through the streets, only a small amount of snow getting in his way.

The Birch family's house was swarming with forensics when they arrived. The brothers got inside without issue after flashing their fake badges, and beheld the gory scene.

"Notice anything different here?" asked Dean sarcastically.

The woman on the floor, the puddle of blood in the carpet, the twisted bed sheets. All were identical to the descriptions of previous crime scenes. Unlike the others, though, was one small addition. The bottom of the bed and the carpet beneath was coated in a thick layer of ice, gleaming brightly under the flashes of cameras.

"That wasn't in the other reports," said Sam.

"Same as the frost in Mark's room?"

"Looks like it." Something he hadn't thought of earlier struck him. "It would make sense," he said quietly, "Ghosts of children who died in a frozen lake, leaving ice with their victims."

"But why didn't they leave it at the other murders?"

"Maybe," said Sam thoughtfully, "this is a warning. If they have to keep killing, it obviously means that their message isn't getting across. They're being louder about it."

"Angry ghosts are the worst kind of ghosts," Dean complained, "Right, so did Mrs Birch have a kid?"

Sam went over to talk with one of the detectives for a few brief minutes, before returning to Dean's side. "A daughter, Sarah. And from what Detective Parks just told me, we might be wanting to have a chat with her."

"Why?" asked Dean. They were already making their way out of the house.

"Well, apparently, Sarah showed up at her neighbour's house this morning. She was panicked and told them to call an ambulance immediately."

"So she discovered the body."

"No," said Sam, "Actually, Sarah didn't even know what had happened to her mother until after the police arrived."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, that's not suspicious. So where is she now?"

"Still at her neighbour's, under police supervision. Her father has been taken in for questioning."

"Let's go visit her, then."

Sarah was still a mess when they met her. Sam guessed that she hadn't stopped crying all morning. Nevertheless, she stared the brothers down bravely, only a wobbling of her bottom lip and trembling of her voice an indication of how she really felt.

"Hi, Sarah," said Sam gently, "I'm Agent Carter and this is Agent Reid. We just have a few questions, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Can you tell us exactly what happened when you woke up? How did you know to call the police?"

Sarah swallowed nervously. "I don't know. I heard Mom screaming and I got scared. So I ran here because Mrs Andrews is always really nice and I thought she'd help."

"Why did you come here?" asked Dean, "You didn't go see what was happening in your parents' room?"

"No," said Sarah shakily, "I wa-was scared."

"It's okay, Sarah," said Sam, "You're being very brave. Now, did you see anything in your house? Anything unusual?"

There was a moment of hesitation that tickled at Sam's instincts before she answered. "No."

He glanced at his brother, and saw that he had also noticed. She was lying? Sam didn't press the issue, however. "Sarah," he said slowly. The theory about the ghosts', if it was ghosts, motivation was strong in his mind. "Was your mother…good to you? Did she ever try to hurt you?"

The girl's eyes widened at the implication. She was smart for an eleven year old. "No! My mom never did anything like that. She wouldn't!"

Her voice was honest, as was her face. She wasn't lying. Sam frowned. If her mother wasn't a threat to her, why would the ghosts kill her? This meant that they would have to rethink their theory.

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Do you have any idea of what might have done this?"

Sarah bit her lip.

"Any…monsters?" Sam tried.

Her eyes widened again and she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "You know about the monster? Mom said it wasn't real. But it got angry and hurt her."

"It's okay," Sam assured her quickly, "Your mom was right. The monster isn't real. No such thing, right?"  
He tried to smile at her, but her eyes filled with tears again.

"Are we done here?" muttered Dean so that only Sam could hear. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we're done," Sam replied, "Thank you, Sarah. You've been very helpful."

Sarah nodded, and when the brothers left the living room, Sam saw Mrs Andrews sweep in to pull her into a hug.

"This case just keeps getting weirder and weirder," said Dean on their way out. Sam could only agree.

Outside the house, a small crowd of kids had gathered. They were dressed in warm clothes, scarves and beanies layered over their coats. They were talking quietly to each other. As Sam and Dean walked by, one of them looked up. He was a boy about Sarah's age, and he held a wooden sled up in front of him.

"Did you just see Sarah?" he asked.

Sam was surprised at the question. "What?"

"Sarah," he repeated, "Is she okay?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. "Are you two friends?"

"We all are," the boy said, gesturing to the other kids, "But no one will tell us what's going on. Did her dad get hurt, too?"

"Her mom did," Dean replied for Sam, who felt like he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.

The kids' faces all fell. One larger girl looked close to tears. "But he promised no one else would get hurt!"

"Who promised?" asked Sam.

The boy with the sled nudged the girl. "Cupcake," he growled. It took a moment for Sam to realise that it was the girl's name.

"But he promised, Jamie," Cupcake said, her voice breaking slightly, "He promised he was going to protect us!" The last part was almost a wail. But then her face softened. "I'm sorry. I know it wasn't his fault."

"Who?" Sam asked again.

"No one!" the boy named Jamie snapped.

"Is there something you can tell us about our investigation?" asked Dean. He put on the voice that Sam recognised as his most authoritative.

"No," said Jamie. He was lying through his teeth, Sam could tell. "We're going to go play now. Right, guys? We're going to have some fun."

A murmur spread through the group, and the kids shuffled off towards the park down the street. They were soon enthralled in a snowball fight. One of the kids, though, looked familiar to Sam. He nudged his brother.

"Is that Mark?" he asked, pointing.

Dean squinted, and saw the boy Sam was gesturing at. "Looks like it."

"Is it just me, or does he look like he's having way too much fun?" And it did. The boy was laughing more than any of them, pelting snowballs left, right, and centre.

"So? He's a kid."

"Yeah, Dean. A kid who lost his father just days ago. Not to mention that the thing that killed his father just killed his friend's mom a few hours ago."

"Huh," said Dean, brilliantly, "Now you mention it, that Cupcake girl is looking pretty happy, too."

He was right. Although close to tears just minutes ago, she was having as much fun as the rest of the kids.

"That Jamie knew something," said Dean, starting towards them.

"You think he'll tell us anything?"

"Only one way to find out. Hey! Kid!"

Jamie looked up as they approached. "You guys again?"

"It's Jamie, right? We need to ask you a few questions," said Sam, in the friendliest voice he could manage, "It'll really help us out. You want us to catch whoever hurt your friends' parents, don't you?"

Jamie's wide brown eyes widened further. "Of course. But I don't think you'll be able to."

"Why not?" asked Dean, "We've caught a lot of bad guys before."

"It's not that," said Jamie.

"Then what is it?"

Jamie looked nervous. "You wouldn't believe me."

They'd heard that before. "Try us," said Sam.

The boy lowered his voice. "It was a monster that hurt them."

Again with the monster. The kids were all so very sure about it.

"What kind of monster?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. A bad one."

"Real helpful," muttered Dean, and Sam elbowed him. The kid was secretive, but he was also talking to them, and he was the first kid to do so that wasn't busy grieving. He would be harder to upset than Mark or Sarah.

"Jamie," he said, "have you noticed anything weird?"

The brown eyes were careful. "Anything like what?"

Oh, he definitely knew something. "Have you smelled anything bad, like rotten eggs?" At this point the case had gotten so weird that Sam wasn't about to rule out demon involvement. But Jamie shook his head, so he tried again. "Maybe you've seen something that other people couldn't. Or heard something. Or have their been any cold spots where there shouldn't be? Colder than normal for winter, anyway."

As Sam spoke, Jamie's eyes grew wider and wider. He fidgeted and looked around nervously. Wind and snow swirled up behind him just then, like it had been disturbed by something landing in it. Maybe a stray snowball or something.

"Jamie," began Sam, "I can tell that you know something."

"It wasn't him, okay?" said Jamie suddenly, panic in his voice, "He hasn't done anything wrong! Cupcake was just angry. He's trying to protect us, really trying!"

"Who is?" Sam asked quickly, hoping he'd get an answer this time.

"I can't tell you. But he hasn't done anything bad."

"Who?"

The wind picked up again suddenly, and Jamie looked at something at his side. Sam couldn't see anything there. Then, after thinking for a short while, the boy seemed to come to a decision, and nodded. "Jack Frost."

*  
Jack didn't like the two men. He had seen them around Burgess a couple of times since the day before. They were sticking their noses into everything, and he wished they would at least leave the kids alone. But right then Jack had a job to do. The kids were upset after another death, Mark was out of the house for the first time since his dad's death, and Jack could cheer them all up.

The snowball fight he had engineered was well and truly underway when the men approached Jamie. Jack continued playing with the other children, but half of him remained alert.

The men were asking questions. Lots of questions, and getting more and more unusual as they progressed. Cold spots, things that most people couldn't see. Jack didn't like the sound of it at all. He checked that the other kids were all having fun, and then flew over to Jamie, throwing up swirls of snow when he landed.

"Everything okay here, kiddo?"

Jamie didn't answer, but his expression was enough. Jack frowned at the men.

"Jamie," said the taller one, "I can tell that you know something."

And when Jamie answered defensively, panic in his voice, Jack understood why he was so anxious. His fondness for the kid only grew as he realised that Jamie was trying to protect him. Even after Jack had failed to protect Sarah's mother, Jamie still insisted that he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Who?" demanded the tall man, sounding almost desperate. It was that which made Jack realise that the strangers were only trying to help. They wanted to get rid of whatever was hurting the parents, whatever was causing the kids so much pain, as much as Jack did. And although he didn't think there was much they could do, he could respect them for it.

"It's okay, Jamie," he said, "You don't need to protect me. They probably won't believe you, anyway. Grown-ups don't believe in anything."

That was something even North and the others could attest to. The Guardians could count on one hand the number of times any of them had been seen by an adult. And it certainly hadn't happened in the last century. It didn't hurt as much as being invisible to the kids - it was just how things were, taken for granted by all of them.

Jamie nodded, encouraged by Jack's words. He looked back at the men, and answered their question. "Jack Frost."

The reactions were predictable. A skeptical look passed over both their faces, and there was a moment of bewildered disbelief before the shorter man responded.

"Jack Frost," he repeated, "You mean like the fairytale?"

"He's not a fairytale!" said Jamie. Jack smiled proudly. He could always count on the kid to defend him. "And he didn't hurt anyone."

"Right," said the taller man, "And this… Jack Frost. You know him?"

"Most of us do." Jamie waved a gloved hand towards the still-playing kids. "He gives us snow days like this."

The tall man nudged the other man suddenly. "The ice," he said quietly, and they shared a meaningful look. Jack felt oddly uncomfortable at that look.

"Thanks for your help, Jamie," said the taller man. He handed him a small card. "If you can think of anything else you want to tell us, give us a call."

Jamie pocketed the card. "Sure."

The men turned and headed back to their timeless black car. Jamie looked up at Jack.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, "I didn't want to tell them about you."

"Hey now," Jack said, taking the boy by the shoulders, "There's nothing to be sorry about. They couldn't see me, no harm done."

"I think they believed me, though."

Jack frowned. He'd gotten that impression, too. "They believed you, yes, Jamie. But they don't believe in me. Don't ask me how that works." He watched the black car drive away down the street. "I think they're just trying to help, but I have a bad feeling about them."

"Me too," said Jamie, shivering a little.

"I'm going to make sure they don't get into anything they're not supposed to," Jack said, making up his mind. He let the wind pick him up, so that he hovered a foot off the ground.

"What are you going to do?" asked Jamie uncertainly.

Jack grinned down at him. "What I do best," he replied, "I'm going to have some fun."

**A/N: It's so awesome seeing you guys start theorising about where this is heading. Also kind of scary though, since I'm realising that there's a chance I could disappoint you. Nevertheless, keep up the amazing reviews!**

**Thanks for reading! Once again, I hope you enjoyed!**


	7. Of Monsters and Mischief

**Seriously, I'm realising I can't thank you all enough! The interest in this story is incredible!**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 6: Of Monsters and Mischief**

The rest of Sam's morning was spent, not at all to his surprise, researching. They had returned to their motel after the run-in with the local children. Dean hadn't wanted to risk getting caught in any more snow, even though the skies were still clear. Their motel room was cold, which Sam didn't think was unusual considering the weather.

"I don't get it," said Dean, drinking from a bottle of beer.

Sam looked up from his laptop screen. "What don't you get?"

"Any of it. The more we find out, the less any of this makes sense. I was fine at first, when we got here. All we knew was that it was probably a ghost. Okay, I can deal with that. But then with the feet thing, and the ice thing, and now the kids talking about Jack freakin' Frost? How is any of this not weird?"

"I don't know, man." Sam gestured at the web page he was scrolling through. There was an illustration of an old man, tall and bony, with a pointed silver beard. "This isn't turning up many results, either. The Jack Frost legend is kind of obscure. There's not much here we don't already know about. Supposedly he brings winter, he's affiliated with ice and snow. It says nothing about killing people."

"So it's not the real deal," said Dean with a shrug. He said it like it was obvious, already established. "Just another ghost, or monster, or whatever, parading around as a kids' fairytale."

"Gaining the children's trust before killing their parents," Sam concluded, "Which puts us back at square one."

"Well duh," said Dean, raising the bottle back to his lips, "I mean, you didn't actually believe it was the real Jack Frost, right?"

Sam shook his head, but it was less in the negative and more in uncertainty. "I don't know, I mean-"

He was broken off by Dean's sudden confused shout. When he looked over, he found his brother holding the beer bottle upside down. Not a single drop escaped it.

"You finished your beer," said Sam, confused by the reaction, "Just go buy some more."

"I didn't finish it," Dean shot back, "It's still half full. But look!" He tossed the bottle over to Sam, who caught it one-handed. "Frozen solid."

It was, Sam realised. The bottle felt heavy and cold in his hand, and it was uncomfortable enough that he had to set it down on the bedside table. It was impossibly frozen, in fact. A chill seemed to settle over the room. Sam put a hand on his gun, and Dean was already digging the EMF reader out of the bags. Both brothers were on alert.

"Is this thing working?" Dean asked, smacking the side of it. Silence replied, the meter remaining still.

"Nothing."

"Well," said Sam slowly, "It is a cold day. Maybe it's a coincidence?"

"This ghost had better hope it is," he said, "Messing with a guy's beer like that? Not cool!"

Convinced that there was nothing in the room with them, the brothers allowed themselves to relax. When Sam thought about it, he realised that he was glad for the interruption. If it hadn't come, he would have had to answer Dean's question, and he wasn't sure how to do that. Did he think it could have been the real Jack Frost? Sam didn't know. He'd seen weirder, but the idea still seemed rather absurd.

Sam yawned and clicked his laptop shut. He hadn't realised up to that point how tired he was. He went into the tiny bathroom attached to their room, hoping that a shower would help to wake him. Warm him, too. The bathroom, with the cool white tiles underfoot, was even colder than the bedroom.

"Don't they have heating in this place?" he muttered to himself, starting the water. It was hot and relaxing, and it did wake him a little. Just when he started thinking that he didn't want to get out, back to the cold room and the case with the gory murders, the water went cold. More than cold, actually. Icy.

Sam shouted at the sudden shock. It took him a moment to recover enough to turn the water off and grab a towel, his teeth chattering. "What the..?"

He dressed quickly, welcoming the warmth from his clothes. Back in the main room, Dean watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Did you slip?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm going 'round to reception. They need to do something about the heating."

He didn't make it far, however, when he saw the problem. The small water tank outside their motel room had been iced over. Sam couldn't help it - he was starting to get annoyed. He headed back into the room and snatched up the EMF reader. Still nothing.

"Maybe it's not a ghost?" he suggested.

"Whatever it is," replied Dean, "It's getting on my nerves. Or it could be like you said, a coincidence."

They couldn't rule it out. Sam clenched his fists, wanting to get out of there. "You hungry?" he asked. Dean gave him a pointed look. "C'mon. Let's go grab something to eat."

He didn't have to ask twice. Dean was already on his feet and collecting his keys.

They didn't go to the same diner as the night before. It was too close to the motel, and Sam wanted to clear his head. Instead they found a small take-out place near the centre of town. There was a liquor store around the corner for which Dean made a beeline while Sam ordered food.

They'd had to leave the car a bit down the road because the street was so covered in snow. A few kids had their sleds out and were having races down the street. Sam recognised the Jamie boy and a couple of his friends amongst them.

There wasn't a long time between ordering a couple of burgers and receiving them. Sam was almost back out the door when he noticed something was off about them.

"These are cold," he told the man behind the counter. Sure enough, although they had been freshly cooked, the burgers felt like they had been sitting in the fridge all day.

The manager was most displeased. "Kate!" he shouted at the young girl in the kitchen. She was confused and apologetic about the problem, but the manager wasn't having any of it. "Make yourself useful while I redo these, and go salt the doorstep. Next thing we know we'll be having a customer slipping on the ice and cracking their head open."

Sam waited awkwardly as the girl rushed off to do as she was told and the manager made him two new burgers. He received a free serving of fries for the inconvenience.

As he left the store with hot paper bags of food in his arms, the kitchen girl gave him another small, apologetic smile. Sam felt bad for getting her in trouble, so he smiled back. She had with her a bucket full of snow salt, which she was sprinkling over the icy pavement. An idea hit Sam, sudden and forceful.

He hurried across the snowy street to where Dean was waiting for him with a case of beer.

"It's not a ghost!" he said excitedly.

His brother looked surprised at his outburst. "It's not?"

"No, Dean. Look over there." He pointed to where the girl was throwing handfuls of salt on the ice. "With how icy it is, there has to be salt everywhere. I don't think a ghost could go anywhere near this town at the moment."

Dean looked thoughtful. "That would most likely go for demons, too. So we keep coming back to the same question - if it's not a ghost, what_ is_ it?"

"Jack Frost?" suggested Sam, but only half-heartedly.

"Very funny, Sam." Dean scowled as they walked back to where they'd left the car. "We're no closer to finding out what this thing is than we were when we first got here. Which means that we're no closer to finding out how to kill it. There's nothing stopping it from attacking anyone e-"

They stopped in their tracks, and a choked sound escaped Dean. The car, which had been intentionally parked away from the snow filled streets, was buried up to the door handles in slush. The windows were coated in frost, so that it was impossible to see the interior.

"No," moaned Dean, "no, no, no! Not my baby!"

Sam gaped at the sight, but his eyes were pulled away by the sound of laughter. Jamie and his friends were giggling amongst themselves, pointing at the top of the car where snow swirled in the wind.

"Okay," said Sam, "Maybe not a coincidence."

Dean swore. "Too far! First my beer and now this?" He started shouting at the sky. "I don't care if you're Jack Frost or Frosty the Snowman or some other monster! You've crossed a line, you icy son of a-"

His foot came down on a small patch of ice that Sam didn't think had been there a second ago, and he went sprawling face-first into a pile of muddy snow at the side of the road. The case of beer tumbled out of his arms and a few of the bottles smashed.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam, but he was struggling to hold back his laughter. His amusement didn't last long, however, when a kid on a sled came hurtling down the street and right over his foot. Sam yelled in pain, but by some miracle he managed to keep hold of the food.

Dean lifted himself out of the snow and glared at the laughing kids. At least at his look a couple of them had the decency to look ashamed.

"He was just having a bit of fun," said Jamie, "But you'd better start digging."

It took them hours to get the car free, by which time Sam thought his whole body was numb with cold. He was thankful for his heavy jacket, at least. As it was, he'd lost feeling in his fingers long ago. They had a shovel which would have been useful, except that it was in the back of the car. So they freed that part first.

It was late afternoon by the time they'd removed all of the snow, and early evening when the engine warmed up enough to actually start. The car spluttered into life, Dean muttering at it encouragingly, and they managed to get back to the motel, albeit slowly.

It was a relief to get inside. Even the coldness of the motel room was better than the frosty air and snow outside. Sam wanted nothing more than another hot shower, but knew better than to try. Instead he burrowed into the thick winter blankets on his bed and tried to stop shivering. To his right, Dean was faring no better.

"I'm g-gonna kill this th-thing," the older brother said through his shivers.

And even if the Jack Frost wannabe wasn't behind the killings, Sam had to agree.

Neither brother noticed the frost patterns creeping up the window.

* * *

That had been _fun!_

It had taken the brothers - whose names Jack had learned were Sam and Dean (and why did that sound so_ familiar_ to him?) - hours to dig their nice black car out of his snow. Jack got bored watching them after a while, so he went off to play with the kids until their parents called them inside. With nothing else to do, Jack circled around the town once before heading back to see the brothers' progress. They had managed to work their way into the car by then, and were trying the engine. Jack followed them back to their motel, taking a seat on the inner windowsill. He watched them bundle up under their blankets, and wondered whether he'd been a bit too harsh.

"I'm g-gonna kill this th-thing," said Dean.

"Sorry," said Jack, although his voice went unheard, "I was just having some fun."

It had been worth it, he decided. Jamie and the other kids had loved it, and it had even cheered Jack himself up. It took his mind off what had happened to Sarah's mother just over twelve hours ago.

Sam agreed with his brother, which surprised Jack somewhat. Had he really angered them that much? He sighed, swinging his staff from side to side in front of him restlessly. Even after all the fun he'd had that day, after everything he'd done to make himself known, they still couldn't see him. They had to know he was there. Their lack of belief was astounding. Grown-ups really were useless.

"So," said Dean once his teeth had stopped chattering, "not a ghost."

"Not a ghost," agreed Sam.

"Got any other ideas, then? And don't say Jack Frost."

Sam was silent at that. His brother sighed.

"Sam…"

"I'm not saying it's _the_ Jack Frost," he said, "But all legends come from somewhere, right? Maybe this is how it started. Some snow creature, running around and claiming to be the spirit of winter."

"Hey!" said Jack, frowning at the man.

"And where do the murders fit into your nice little theory?" asked Dean.

"Hey!" he said again, more indignant this time. And then he realised why the brothers were so eager to learn about him. "Wait, you actually think I'm the one who hurt those people?"

"You've got to admit," Sam answered his brother, "it's a good cover. Who would suspect Jack Frost of murder? And there was the ice at the last crime scene."

"No, you've got it all wrong!" said Jack, hugging his staff tightly, "I scared that thing away! I can stop it!"

Of course they couldn't hear him. Jack was actually thankful, for once, for his invisibility. If they thought he was the one behind the attacks, where did that leave them? On the other hand, and even worse, if they wasted their time chasing after him, they weren't going to catch the thing that was truly behind it.

Jack didn't listen to anything more, and the brothers didn't say much more anyway. As soon as they were asleep, Jack quietly slipped out of the window and flipped himself onto the motel roof. He looked up at the Moon, which was so bright in the middle of the black sky.

"I could use a hand here," he admitted quietly, "Because I have no idea what I'm doing. Please, I… I can't stop whatever is doing this by myself. I need them to believe in me."

The Moon didn't answer. Of course. But the light shone brightly down on Jack's roof, and it was soothing. Jack closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his staff.

The moonlight retracted suddenly, and that was what made Jack realise that something was wrong. He was alert, eyes and ears sharp.

A sound was coming from the brothers' room. An unnatural rustling, hissing, growling noise. Jack jumped back down and was glad that he had left the window open by a centimetre. It slid open smoothly, allowing Jack entrance to the room.

The sound was coming from under the bed. When Jack looked carefully, he could see an indecipherable shape shifting around in the darkness. His cold blood ran even colder when he realised what was happening, and the brothers remained sleeping.

"Wake up!" he shouted at the men, as he shot some ice under the bed. The creature yelped, but unlike last time it wasn't deterred. "Wake up, you idiots! It's right there!"

They didn't wake, and he hadn't expected them to. He continued screaming at them anyway, desperation driving him on. He sent more blasts of ice at the creature, but all it did was slow it down slightly. Delayed the inevitable.

Jack couldn't get close enough to the beds to try and shake the brothers awake. His hands would just go through them anyway.

The creature spoke. "Telling little children that I'm not real. Change his mind."

Jack watched in horror as a hand, yellowed and rotting, reached up towards Sam's leg. He shot more ice, one blast after another. But it was already too late. With a rough tug, Sam was pulled onto the floor.

His eyes flew open when he landed, and he yelled. He struggled against the hand that still held him tightly, kicking and screaming for his brother to wake up. Jack took the opportunity to jump onto Dean's bed while the creature was distracted by his prey. He landed lightly over the sleeping man, but he didn't know where to go from there. He was still as silent and intangible as before.

If shouting wasn't going to wake him up…

"Sorry about this," said Jack, and he tapped Dean's sleeping body with his staff. Frost spread over the man's torso, jolting him awake with a sharp cry. He looked disoriented for a second, but the cries for help from his brother snapped him out of the momentary confusion.

"Sammy!" he shouted, jumping out of bed with a gun already in his hands. He shot at the creature, and Jack joined him, ice and bullets flying at the creature. When it didn't help, Dean focused on pulling Sam out of the creature's grasp instead. Between his tugs and Sam's kicks into the creature's face, they managed it. The second Sam was free, Jack jumped between them and brought his staff slamming down onto the floor, pouring all his power into the action. Thick ice sprang up, growing like vines from the carpet to the ceiling, blocking Jack and the brothers from the creature. There was another sound from the monster, almost like a cry of defeat. And then silence. The brothers were smart, at least, and ran. They exited the motel room, into the cool night air, and kept going until they made it to their car. Jack followed overhead after icing over the motel door. He wasn't taking any chances with the creature.

He found the brothers slumped, exhausted, against the side of the car. Jack landed in front of them, and sat crouched atop his staff.

"You okay?" asked Dean once he'd caught his breath.

"Yeah," said Sam, "I've still got all my toes, at least. What the hell _was_ that thing?"

"No idea. But it sure didn't look like Jack Frost."

Sam laughed weakly. "You woke up," he said, "I was starting to think you wouldn't hear me."

"I didn't," said Dean. He looked down at his shirt, which was still covered with ice. "This is what woke me."

Sam's eyes widened. "Ice," he said quietly. He blinked a few times. "Oh!"

"What is it?" asked Dean, "Sammy?"

"I just - I realised something."

"What?"

"We had it wrong!" said Sam excitedly, "The ice at the crime scenes, the kids, Jamie, the Jack Frost legend!"

Hope started rising in Jack's chest, blossoming like frost flowers on glass. They had it wrong… Was he figuring it out?

"You want to start explaining what the hell you're talking about?" asked Dean.

"And just now!" Sam continued, "The ice wasn't attacking us! It woke you up, it kept the monster away! It's like Jamie said - it was protecting us!"

Jack held his breath, waiting for it all to click. _Come on, Sam_, he thought._ You're smart; you can figure this out._

"It was protecting us," Dean repeated sceptically, "It - you mean Jack Frost, right?"

Sam was quiet for a while, thinking, his face excited. "Jack Frost saved us," he said finally, quietly.

Jack grinned, joy filling him completely. Sam understood. "You're welcome."

What he wasn't expecting was for Sam to look directly at him, where he was perched on the crook of his staff. The widening of eyes was all it took for him to realise.

"Wait, can you..?"

"Jack Frost," Sam breathed.

**A/N: This is it! What we've all been waiting for! I hope it's not too disappointing!**

**This has probably been one of my favourite chapters to write so far. It was so much fun thinking up all the pranks.**

**If I got anything wrong with the salt, etc, I'm really sorry! My knowledge of Supernatural mythology is kind of rusty at the moment.**

**As always, thank you so much for all the support you've shown for this story! And, again as always, reviews and critique is very welcome!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Seeing

**Thank you all so much for showing me through reviews and favourites and follows that you're still enjoying this. I know I say it a lot, but I really do think you guys are all amazing!**

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 7: Seeing**

Sam felt like the pieces were finally coming together. After two days of confusion, of chasing around loose threads and dead ends, an understanding was finally washing over him. Jack Frost, the winter legend, the being that Jamie had spoken of with such desperation the day before. Bringing the snow and ice, pulling pranks on the brothers, but never killing anyone. It was why the murders hadn't fit with the stories. Because there was something else in Burgess, the monster the children talked about fearfully.

But Jack Frost, really? Sam still wasn't sure whether to actually believe it.

Then, out of nowhere, a memory came to him.

He had been six years old, and a hunt had taken the family of three to the mountains. Messy deaths of hikers, and supposed sightings of the Abominable Snowman. A load of bull, Dean had huffed. It was one of the older brother's first hunts, although carefully supervised by their father. As such, Sam had been left alone in their rented lodge with strict orders not to go outside. But his brother and dad had been gone for a few hours by that point, and there was a strange growling coming from the roof. Sam had been scared, and he couldn't just stay huddled in the corner of the small bedroom. So, feeling oddly brave, he held a trashcan lid in front of him like a shield and went out the door. He'd regretted it instantly, when the monstrous face of the creature his family was hunting appeared before him. Sam had screamed, and prepared to run, but there had been nowhere to run to. Just before the monster attacked, a strong gust of wind had pushed Sam off the porch and onto a trail of ice. Somehow, as he'd fallen, the trashcan lid had slipped beneath him. Before he knew it, he had been sitting in the lid and sliding on slippery ice down the mountain. The monster hadn't been far behind, but the longer Sam slid, the faster he had sped up. Eventually, despite the immediate threat, Sam had laughed and whooped and cheered as he slid down the mountain towards safety.

Sam had forgotten that day. It hadn't even crossed his mind in at least fifteen years. But the memory came to him now, and with it was a sense of familiarity. Suddenly, he knew exactly what had saved his life that day. It was the same thing that had just now protected him and his brother from the monster under his bed.

"Jack Frost saved us," he said in amazement. Sam no longer had any doubts about the mysterious ice-bringer's identity. He believed.

"You're welcome," said a voice that wasn't his brother's.

Sam looked up in shock. There was a long wooden stick, almost like an old-fashioned shepherd's crook, standing straight in the snow. It stood there as though held by magic, because there was nothing to tie it down. And balanced on top of the stick was a young man that looked nothing like Sam would ever have imagined. He wasn't like the illustration in Sam's research. He wasn't an old man, for one thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. The boy was probably still just a teenager, judging by his youthful face and lanky frame. He didn't have a beard like in the picture, either, although his messy hair was the right shade of silver. Everything about the boy was pale, from his face to his eyes to his bare feet that rested on the wooden stick. He was dressed in a way such as that, had he been walking down a street, he could have blended in with other kids his age. A blue hoodie and tight brown pants, and the frost that settled on them could easily have been sewn into the fabric.

But despite how different he was compared to Sam's expectations, Sam knew instantly who he was.  
Delight was seeped into the boy's young features as he met Sam's eyes. It suited him, as though his face was made for happiness. Then the happiness mixed with shock.

"Wait, can you..?"

"Jack Frost," Sam breathed.

"What?" asked Dean beside him, "What are you looking at?"

"Jack Frost," he repeated, louder.

"You can see me?" asked the boy hesitantly, although the answer was obvious. But still he looked almost frightened, as though scared that Sam would say 'no'.

Sam nodded. "I can see you."

Jack Frost laughed in amazement, and he jumped an inch off his perch, punching the air. "You can see me! How can you - You can see me!"

Once he'd started moving, he didn't seem physically able to stop. He bounced on top of his stick a few times, and then leaped off it altogether, landing lightly on the ground. He caught the stick as it started falling, holding it over his shoulder. He moved towards Sam, gesturing with his free hand wildly.

"I've never been seen by an adult before! They don't have the faith that kids do. But you- you _believe!_ You..!"

Sam laughed, the boy's happiness infecting him.

"Sam," said Dean, his eyes squinting into the darkness of the parking lot, "Is this Jack Frost guy here?"

"You can't see him?" asked Sam, "He's right in front of us."

His brother's eyes narrowed. "I don't like this, Sammy. How come you can see this thing and I can't?"

Sam looked to the boy for answers. Jack's spirits seemed only slightly dampened by Dean's lack of sight.

"He doesn't believe in me."

"He says that you can't see him because you don't believe," Sam explained.

"Don't believe..? Sam, either you've actually gone crazy or you're_ not_ talking to thin air. I'm pretty sure there's something there."

"He doesn't understand," said Jack, "He can believe that I'm here, but that doesn't mean he believes _in_ me. In Jack Frost."

"He says that you need to believe in Jack Frost."

Dean gave Sam a look of annoyance. "I'm starting to think you're just messing with me now."

"Well, why not?" asked Sam, "He's not exactly the strangest thing we've encountered. What about that time with the cupid?"

"You've met Cupid?" asked Jack, "I can't stand that guy! Freeze a guy's bow once and he thinks that he's allowed to mess with you for a decade. The others still pick on me over the incident with Bunny…"

Sam smirked. "Yeah, I don't think anyone likes him."

"What did he say?" asked Dean, "Is he talking about me?"

"No, he… Look. This is the real deal here. Why can't you realise that?"

"Well excuse me for finding it a little hard to swallow," said his brother gruffly, "And I still haven't forgiven this thing for what it did to my beer, or my baby."

"The car thing?" asked Jack, swinging his stick nonchalantly, "Even after I saved your life, you're still angry about that?"

"He just saved our lives, Dean," Sam reminded his brother, "I think we kind of owe him on this one."

But Dean shook his head. His position on the matter wasn't budging.

Jack Frost crouched down in front of them, a thoughtful look on his face. "I can't make him believe," he said to Sam, "I think that only you can do that."

The moonlight shone brightly down on them. Sam looked at his brother, still seated at his side. And he knew exactly what to say. The one thing that would make Dean believe.

"Okay, you don't believe in Jack Frost, that's fine," he said, "But he's right here, I can see him. So believe in me."

It was all he could ask. It was all he could ever ask.

And it worked.

Dean blinked a few times, as though trying to clear his head. He opened his eyes to find Jack Frost inches from his face and yelled, instinctively pointing his gun.

"What the hell?!"

Jack laughed and jumped out of the way. He leaned casually against his stick. "Sorry," he said, sounding not at all apologetic, "I didn't mean to surprise you."

"Give a guy a warning next time!" Dean snapped. Then, "Jack Frost?"

He bowed theatrically. "The one and only."

"Wow. I have to say, you are _not_ what I expected. How old are you - twelve?"

"I'm eighteen," Jack said indignantly, "I think. Give or take three hundred years."

"Three hundred years," he repeated, "So what does that make you? You don't seem much like a ghost to me."

"I'm not a ghost." He sounded almost insulted at the suggestion. "I'm Jack Frost. I'm a Guardian."

"A Guardian?" asked Sam, "You mean, like a protector?"

Jamie _had_ said that Jack Frost was protecting them.

"Kind of," Jack replied, "But it's not as straightforward as you make it sound. A Guardian is a protector of children and childhood. So far there's been five chosen. I'm one of them."

When he spoke, there was an oddly amazed look in his eyes, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

"Sounds like you're a real special snowflake," said Dean. He was shivering, and it was only then that Sam realised that he was, too. It was very cold sitting on the icy pavement, with the cool metal of their car pressed against their backs.

Jack waved the comment aside. "You should get someplace warmer," he said, "before you freeze to death."

"Yeah, thanks for the advice," said Dean, "Where would you suggest we go? In case you didn't notice, that was our motel room you just froze over."

"It'll melt soon enough," said Jack unapologetically. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Although the manager will probably be _very_ unhappy with you two. In the meantime, there's a twenty-four hour diner across town. We can talk there."

Sam saw his brother's face light up at the notion of food. They clambered to their feet and into the warmth of the car. Jack Frost remained outside.

"You getting in?" asked Dean impatiently, nodding towards the back seat. Jack gave it a distasteful look.

"Too cramped for my liking. And slow. I'll meet you guys there."

And as the brothers watched in awe, the wind suddenly picked up. Then Jack jumped, and next second he was standing on top of one of the powerlines high in the air. He shot Sam a grin and then turned and jumped again and vanished from sight.

The brothers sat in silence for a second, absorbing everything that had happened that night.

"So," said Dean, clearing his throat roughly, "Jack Frost, huh?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

With nothing further to say, Dean started the car and started driving.

It took them a while to find the diner. They had to keep an eye out for patches of frost on the powerlines and lampposts, and then follow them like a trail of breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, the trail was far too sparse, and they drove around for close to half an hour before they reached their destination. When they arrived, Jack was perched on top of the large neon sign at the entrance of the almost-empty parking lot. He jumped down to meet the brothers, his white hair ruffling in the strong breeze that joined him.

"Show off," muttered Dean. But Sam knew him well enough to know that, in truth, he thought it was really cool.

"What took you guys so long?" Jack asked, his pale blue eyes gleaming. He pushed open the diner door for them, and frost crackled on the glass around his hand. "After you."

The diner had one other patron, and a young waitress. A cook could be heard clanging around in the kitchen. Otherwise, it was silent. The other customer looked to be a student or something, with a heavy book and a whole jug of coffee on the table in front of him. Sam recognised from his own previous experiences what it meant - there was an important test the next day.

The brothers and Jack took a booth in the corner of the diner, and the waitress quickly came over to take their orders. Sam and Dean ordered coffee and pie, and Jack, invisible and unheard, ordered nothing. He looked ridiculously small sitting in the booth, the way he was leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table making him seem hunched over in his slightly oversized hoodie. Yet he seemed perfectly at ease. His stick leaned upright next to him on the seat, and Sam noticed that when he released it the slight bluish tinge in the wood had vanished. He took note to ask about it later - maybe it channelled his power.

"Bit warmer?" Jack asked.

"A bit," said Dean, "Of course, it doesn't help that you froze me from the neck down."

"I'm sorry," he replied, sounding as though he truly meant it this time, "I didn't know how else to wake you."

Sam shot his brother a look across the table, to remind him that Jack freezing him had saved their lives. Dean pulled a face back. Jack's thin lips quirked up into a grin.

"Why're you so cheerful?" asked Dean.

"Why aren't _you?"_

"You mean, apart from being woken in the middle of the night by a monster attack? Well, in case you've forgotten, the monster that attacked us is still out there and, unless you can enlighten us, we have no idea what it is."

"He kind of has a point," said Sam. Jack Frost's appearance had ruled out most of their already shaky theories. They didn't have much left to go on.

Jack squinted as he thought. His cheerful air barely diminished. "And that's exactly why this is all working out so great."

"It is?" asked Sam, wondering if he'd missed something.

"It is?" Dean echoed.

"We work together, we'll find whatever's behind this and make it pay," Jack said, as though it were obvious.

"Wait, wait," said Dean, holding up his hands, "Who said anything about working together?"

Jack looked surprised. "What?"

"No offence," he said, "but Sam and I work alone. We've made the mistake of trusting the wrong…people…one time too many. Add in a snow ghost that we couldn't even see until an hour ago? Sorry, kid, but you're out of this one."

A hurt look crossed Jack's face, but he hid it well under a mild glare.

"Dean," muttered Sam. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy. He wanted to trust him, but Dean, on the other hand, was notoriously stubborn on these matters. Not entirely without reason, he reminded himself. "I don't think-"

"No, it's okay, Sam," said Jack quickly. He'd pulled his stick back against his side, and was holding onto it as though for support. "Your brother has a point. Why should you trust me? I mean, I'm just another monster to you guys, right?"

"He didn't mean it like-"

Jack interrupted him again. "Sure he didn't," he said casually, "Of course, it would make sense. To you guys. You know nothing about me, so why _should_ you let me join you?" He shrugged, and then his face turned serious. "But the thing is, whatever has been killing people is hurting the kids in doing so. So if you don't want me helping you, how are you planning on stopping me?"

Dean stroked his coat where his gun was hidden. "Oh, I can think of a few ways, Snow Princess."

"Dean!" said Sam again, firmly.

Jack relaxed back into his seat, the seriousness gone as quickly as it had come. He looked at his hand, as though studying his fingernails, and swirled it in a smooth motion. A small snowflake appeared out of thin air. It weaved around his pale fingers a few times. He looked at Sam. "How do you deal with this guy all the time?" he asked, "Dean, cheer up. Have a bit of _fun."_

He flicked the snowflake so that it shot across the table like a bullet. Dean wasn't fast enough to move out of the way before it landed directly on the tip of his nose and dissolved into a small shower of blue sparks.

"Hey! What did you just…" He trailed off, an odd look entering his eyes. And then he smirked and pulled himself out of the booth.

"Uh, Dean?" asked Sam, "Where are you going?"

But his brother didn't answer him. He was already across the diner, and talking to the pretty blonde waitress. Sam recognised the body language all too well. He looked back at Jack, who was watching the exchange with a confused and curious expression.

"What did you just do to him?"

"His bad mood was getting me down. I gave him a touch of fun."

"You can do that?" asked Sam.

"It's my centre," Jack replied, still watching Dean. He didn't seem to notice that the words were effectively meaningless to Sam. "What's he doing?"

Sam looked over to his brother, who was saying something in the now blushing waitress's ear. As he watched, the waitress nodded, then looked around nervously and took his hand. The two disappeared through a door next to the kitchen.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'd say he's going to, uh, have a bit of fun," he said.

Jack frowned, and then blinked, and then his eyes widened. "Oh!" he exclaimed. Light pink flushed his cheeks, and against the otherwise white skin it stood out. He wrinkled his nose then, and looked faintly disturbed. "That's disgusting."

Sam laughed at his expression. "That's Dean. But you've been eighteen for around three hundred years, right? Are you seriously telling me that you've never..?"

Jack flushed even brighter. "No way! Gross!"

"At all?" Sam couldn't help but feel curious, and a tiny bit sorry for the kid. Three centuries without getting laid? That must have sucked.

"Who exactly would I have…uh, yeah…with?" Jack asked, stuttering over the question and covering it with a cough, "Sam, until a few years ago, I was completely invisible."

Sam was about to say something teasing, when the full impact of Jack's words sank in. "Completely?"

He shrugged, but Sam saw the boy's fingers clench tighter around his stick, sending more icy blue threads running up and down the wood. "I mean, there were the other Legends and Guardians hanging around. I saw them from time to time, but we never really…talked."

"Weren't you lonely?" asked Sam quietly.

"Of course," he replied, saying it in the way one would comment on the weather. A solemn look was threatening to creep onto his face. Instead of allowing it, though, he smiled brightly. "You met Jamie yesterday? He was my first believer. A real incredible kid."

His voice was filled with such fondness that Sam also smiled. He had spoken like a brother. "Is that why you're so determined to protect the kids here?" he asked.

Jack shook his head. "I'm a Guardian. I would be doing this even if the attacks were on the other side of the world. But since it's happening here in Burgess, I suppose I'm a bit more emotionally involved than I would be otherwise."

"Because of Jamie?"

"Partly," said Jack, "It's also Burgess itself that I'm attached to. I've always spent most of my time here. In the winter months, anyway. This is where I became a Guardian, and where I became Jack Frost long before that. And, I guess, this is where I grew up in my life before I was Jack Frost. Burgess is kind of my non-permanent home."

No wonder he wanted to join Sam and Dean in hunting down the monster. Sam realised with a jolt that Jack had probably watched at least one of the victims grow up. He couldn't imagine how it must have felt to learn of their deaths.

"Wait, _before_ you were Jack Frost?" he asked, trying to make sense of the comment, "You mean you weren't created like this?"

"I thought so, too, until just before I became a Guardian. But I was human once, just like you."

Sam figured it out quickly. The town legend had begun three centuries earlier. What else could it be? He put the pieces together. "You're the ghost from the lake! The one that keeps it frozen!" he said excitedly.

Jack looked confused. "The what now?"

"We heard about a local legend," Sam explained, "A couple of kids died at the lake about three hundred years ago, and the lake hasn't thawed out since. You can't tell me that wasn't you? The Overland children?"

"I've heard that name before," said Jack. He seemed to be struggling to remember. "Was- was that my name? I'm a legend?"

"You didn't know?" asked Sam, surprised. With how long he'd been around, surely he would have heard people talk.

"But my sister," Jack continued, "She didn't fall in, she survived. I pushed her off the ice - I saved her." His voice was proud and his eyes were bright. He was looking at Sam in a way that was almost encouraging him to join in the excitement.

It was at that moment that Dean arrived back at the booth. His hair was a bit more messy than usual, and his shirt was inside out. He smirked at Jack and Sam. "That was fun!" he said.

"I don't want to hear it," said Jack, but he was grinning and only blushing very faintly, "Are you feeling better now?"

Dean nodded. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing important," he replied, "Now that you're a little less cranky, I think we have a monster to catch."

**A/N: Hope this helps you all recover from the cliffhanger last chapter!**

**Sorry if it seems like not much happens here. As of the next chapter, things should really start moving.**

**A couple of you reviewed previously about the librarian's comment in chapter five about both of the children dying. Although I loved your theories about that, I've answered it in a much more boring way in this chapter. Over the course of three hundred years, the stories would warp at least a little.**

**Once again, I am so, so grateful for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. Keep up the amazingness, guys!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. The Pieces Come Together

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 8: The Pieces Come Together**

"So what else do we know about this thing?" asked Dean the next day.

On returning to their room earlier that morning, they had found the very angry motel manager standing next to a couple of traumatised housekeepers. Like Jack had promised them the night before, the wall of ice had started melting, and the room was flooded. Sam and Dean had just enough time to collect their belongings before being promptly kicked out with a large bill for damages.

"Whoops," said Jack, but he was trying to hold in his laughter. Luckily for the brothers, the news hadn't spread far and they were welcomed into a cheap hotel on the other side of town.

Dean was currently pacing up and down their new room while Sam sat at the table with his laptop. Jack Frost crouched on one of the bedposts, turning his head back and forth to follow Dean's movements.

"It targets adults," said Sam, "Not just parents."

"It's strong," added Jack, "It can withstand my ice. And it's getting stronger." He didn't tell them how much that unsettled him. But when the thing had attacked Sarah's mother, one blast of ice had been enough to make it flee. Whatever the thing was, it was growing powerful.

Sam reached down, seemingly subconsciously, to rub his ankle. Jack's keen eyes could see dark purple bruises poking out from under his jeans. It had to hurt.

"Here," he said, forming a block of ice in his palm. He passed it over to Sam, who stared down at it in confusion. "For your feet."

"Oh. Thanks." Sam wrapped the ice in a thin cloth and pressed it to the bruising. A quiet sigh escaped his lungs at the soothing contact. Then he turned back to his brother. "It probably lives under beds," he said, "Drags people under and then eats their feet."

"Awesome," said Dean flatly, "So what, we've got the Bogeyman after our asses?"

Jack shook his head at that. "Not his style." The brothers looked at him. Jack frowned. "What?"

"Oh, come on!" said Dean, "The Bogeyman's real, too?"

"What do you mean, it's not his style?" asked Sam. He also looked disbelieving, but not as much as his brother.

"Pitch Black deals more in nightmares and fear," Jack explained, "And he wouldn't hide away under beds. Especially when I'm involved. He'd want to gloat. Anyway, I don't think he'd be strong enough to do all this. Last I heard, he was still underground. This is something else."

"What, then?" asked Dean, "Did you notice anything else last night? Maybe before it attacked?"

Jack thought hard. He rested his chin on top of his staff and tapped the wood. He hadn't been in the room when the thing had arrived. He wished now that he had - maybe he would've seen something. As it was, he hadn't even noticed it's presence until the Man had warned him. So he had to think about what had happened during the attack. It was difficult - he'd been too panicked and concerned with fighting back to really pay attention to the details. But there was one thing that came to mind.

"It said something," he told the brothers, "Right before it attacked Sam."

"What did it say?" asked Sam.

Jack tried to remember exactly. "Something like, 'You told children I'm not real so I'll change your mind.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Sam started shaking his head, but then his eyes filled with recognition. "Wait, it does! Yesterday, when we were talking to Sarah Birch. Remember, Dean?"

"She said her mom had told her that the monster wasn't real, didn't she?"

"Yeah, and then I told her that her mom was right. I was just trying to reassure her."

"Telling her that made the monster angry," said Jack, "Understandably. I'd be, at the very least, upset if grown-ups started trying to convince the kids that I wasn't real." He knew perfectly well that not being believed in was the worst feeling in the world. He bit back a shudder at the thought of going back to that. "Wait, that's it!"

Sam and Dean seemed rather taken aback by his sudden exclamation.

"That's what?" asked Sam.

"It's another Legend doing this!" said Jack, "A malevolent one."

The brothers looked at each other in confusion.

"Yeah, you've lost me," said Dean.

"Not the Bogeyman, but something like him. Like me," he told them, "It all makes sense! This Legend, whoever it is, wants belief! But the kids are being told that it's not real, so it's killing the adults in vengeance. And what better way to make kids believe in a monster than to kill their parents, right?"

During his explanation, he had straightened up on top of the bedpost, and started gesturing wildly. It was a habit of his that often flared up when he got enthusiastic or excited about something. He just couldn't make himself sit still. Bunny was always quick to tell him how annoying it was.

"Watch it!" said Dean, ducking out of the way when Jack accidentally swung his staff towards his head. "Why don't you put the stick down before you take my eye out?"

"Sorry," said Jack. He held onto it, though, instead opting to rest it across his shoulders and hang his arms comfortably over it. "But you get what this means, right?"

"Uhh." Dean didn't.

"We can find the Legend that's doing this! We can figure out how to stop it!"

"How can we do that?" asked Sam.

"The kids," Jack replied, "They have to know what's going on."

"Last time we tried, they didn't really feel like talking," said Dean.

Jack grinned. "But you didn't have me with you last time. Come on!"

He was already opening the window and silently calling on the wind to carry him. Before he could jump, though, something tugged him back by the fabric of his hood. He almost dropped his staff in surprise.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking up to find Sam holding him up. His feet were dangling in the air, and he struggled against Sam's hold, trying to push his hands away. Between this and North's yetis, he was starting to rethink the hoodie. "What are you - Put me down!"

"Don't go running off on us again," said Sam, "Last time you did that it took us ages to track you down."

"Then what would you suggest?"

Sam released him, thankfully, and he dropped about a foot to the ground. "You're coming with us."

Jack looked between the brothers in distaste. He wasn't a fan of cars. He hated them almost as much as shoes, in fact. Almost. Like shoes, they were too confining. Too small and closed in.

"Sure, your car's nice and all," he said, "but is that really necessary?"

"Yes," said Dean without missing a beat. Judging by his expression, he was enjoying Jack's discomfort. Maybe this was payback for all the pranks he'd pulled the previous day. "Suck it up, Snow White."

Jack smirked. "You know, if you weren't so annoying, I think I might actually like you." Before Dean could on decide whether or not that was a compliment, Jack was already halfway to the door. "Let's go, then."

They didn't let him call shotgun, either. He was stuck riding in the backseat, hand on the doorhandle and ready to fly out as soon as they stopped.

The kids were at the park again. Jack's snow day had worked, effectively closing the school and giving the children freedom for another day. It was nearly lunchtime, though, and many of the kids were starting to head home for a break. Jack scanned the crowd for Jamie. He caught sight of him walking towards his house, dragging his sister along on his sled behind him.

"Over there," Jack told his companions, starting forward. "Hey, kiddo!"

Jamie looked up at his voice, and his face lit up. "Jack! Thanks for the snow day! I hadn't done my homework, so you kind of saved my life."

Jack grinned. "No problem. Hey there, Soph," he added, "You been into the craft scissors again?"

Sophie giggled and beamed up at him from under her choppy, DIY haircut. She was never going to stop being adorable; it was something all the Guardians agreed on.

Sam and Dean caught up with them then, and Jamie looked instantly on guard. "What do you guys want now?"

"It's okay," said Jack quickly, although he couldn't help but feel proud of the distrustful glare Jamie was levelling the brothers with, "They're with me."

"But…" Jamie looked between the three, confused. Then, when he realised that Sam and Dean could see Jack, he looked even more confused. "I thought you said that grown-ups don't believe in anything."

"These guys are different," Jack told him, "And they're going to help me stop the bad guy."

"They are?" Jamie looked at them doubtfully. "But what about the other Guardians? North, and Bunny?"

"Bunny!" repeated Sophie, her face brightening. Annoyance flared up within Jack. Sophie was adorable, but she was also a constant source of rivalry between himself and Bunny - which Guardian did she like more?

"No need to bother them. The three of us is more than enough," Jack told Jamie. "Sam and Dean are much more capable than they look."

He shot the brothers the cheekiest look he could manage at their protests. But his words had reassured Jamie, who looked much happier.

"I told you Jack didn't do anything wrong," he said, grinning.

"We never doubted it," Sam lied quickly. Jack gave him a pointed look which he ignored. "Jamie, we just have to ask you a few more questions."

"You aren't real FBI agents, are you?" It wasn't really a question. Jamie was very smart for his age. Jack could see that he knew perfectly well that the brothers had been lying about their identities. It didn't seem to bother him, though. "What do you need? Sophie," he added to his sister, "go on home without me. Tell Mom I won't be long."

"Okay, Jamie," said Sophie brightly, clambering off the sled, "Bye-bye, Jack!"

"We need your help," said Jack after she was gone, putting a hand on Jamie's shoulder and crouching down to his level, "Do you want to be a hero?"

Jamie looked excited at the thought. "Can I help you fight the monsters again?"

Jack chuckled. "Not this time, kiddo. But your help will be just as important. You see, Sam and Dean here are helping me track down the monster, but we don't know what we're looking for. Jamie, I think you can help us out."

"Me? But I don't know what the monster is."

"Are you sure? Your friends have been talking, right?" Jack grinned at him. "What do they say? It's very important, Jamie. You can be like - like a spy!"

"Well," said Jamie, brightening visibly at the comparison, "Sarah told me the other day that there was a monster hiding in her room that hurt Mark's dad. I tried to tell her that it wasn't real, but then it hurt her mom and now everyone's talking about it."

"Did she say what kind of monster it was?" asked Sam.

Jamie looked up at him. "She said the monster under her bed. She said that it snatches you by the ankles if you're not careful and pulls you under, and that you're never seen again."

A monster under the bed, thought Jack. No, that wasn't quite right. Not _a_ monster…

_"The_ Monster Under the Bed?" asked Dean. He looked at Jack in question. "I thought that was the Bogeyman."

"It's not," said Jack, "It has to be something different. But the Monster Under the Bed… I've never heard of it before." He looked back at Jamie, who was listening, wide-eyed, to their exchange. "Jamie, why didn't you mention this before?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," he replied, "I just thought… If it was something like you, then if no-one believed in it, it wouldn't be able to hurt us."

Jack squeezed the boy's shoulder fondly. "Smart thinking," he said, "But you don't need to be worried about that. Didn't I tell you that I wouldn't let anything hurt you?"

"I know," said Jamie, looking down at his feet in embarrassment, "Jack, you're going to stop this thing, aren't you? Like you stopped the Bogeyman?"

"Of course we are." Jack grinned at him reassuringly. "You just have to believe in me."

Jamie laughed. They both knew that if anyone would continue to believe in Jack, it would be him. Jamie gave Sam and Dean a very serious look then. "You two need to make sure he doesn't do anything really stupid."

"Hey!" said Jack. He waved his staff mock-threateningly. "Watch it, kid, or I'll freeze your tongue to your teeth." He wouldn't, of course. He would never willingly incur Tooth's wrath like that.

"We'll keep an eye on him," Sam promised anyway, "He'll be okay with us."

"Hey!" Jack frowned at the nodding brothers. He knew how to take care of himself. He'd done so for three centuries. "Jamie, you should get going before your mom comes looking for you." Also, he didn't want Jamie to see him hit the brothers with his staff. He didn't condone violence around kids. But he didn't mention this part.

"Okay." Jamie waved his gloved fingers at Sam and Dean, and then started crossing the road towards his house. "Bye, Jack!"

"Take care, kiddo."

As soon as Jamie was out of sight, Jack swung his staff lightly at the brothers' heads, hitting them both in one swift movement.

"Ow!"

"Hey!"

Jack smirked and leaned casually against the staff, shoving his spare hand into his hoodie pocket. "That's what happens when you treat me like a kid."

"Don't we have more important things to focus on?" asked Sam, rubbing the back of his head. Flakes of ice fell from his hair at the movement.

"Yeah, like the fact that we need to figure out how to kill the Bogeyman?" asked Dean.

"I told you," said Jack, frustrated, "It's not the Bogeyman. It's the Monster Under the Bed. Two different… Wait, I've got it!" He jumped and floated several feet in the air in his sudden excitement. Dean's words had given him an idea. "Pitch! He might know more about this thing! He could tell us how to stop it!"

"Pitch…the Bogeyman, right?" said Sam, "The real one?"

Jack nodded eagerly. "Sure, he's not exactly my biggest fan. But, between the three of us, we could make him talk."

"So let me get this straight," said Dean, "You want us to just go and talk to the Bogeyman. To find out how to kill the Monster Under the Bed. The real deal Bogeyman. Who apparently has a grudge against you. Are you out of your mind?"

"Can you think of any better ideas?" Jack challenged. When the brothers came up with nothing, he continued. "We'll be fine. Pitch is still too weak to do anything."

"You're sure about that?" asked Dean, "I've never met the guy, and even I don't think this is a good idea."

"Is this what Jamie meant, about you doing something really stupid?" asked Sam. Jack scowled. "Okay, fine. If you're sure about this, then I'm in."

They looked at Dean, who quickly realised he was outnumbered. "Let me get the shotgun first."

**A/N: Soooo, yeah. How am I going? Everyone still enjoying it?**

**Thank you for all the reviews and feedback so far! Please keep the awesomeness up!**

**On another note, I think there's only a few chapters to go! Which means you only have to put up with me for a few more weeks. Which also means that there should (hopefully) be plenty of action from here on.**

**Thanks for reading! I hope everyone's still liking it!**


	10. The Nightmare Pit

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 9: The Nightmare Pit**

When Sam and Dean returned to the car, Jack gave them an odd look.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Sam frowned, unsure as to what he meant. "Going to meet the bogeyman, apparently."

"You think you can just drive there?" Jack seemed to find the idea amusing. "Pitch Black doesn't live in some ordinary house in the suburbs."

"So how do we get there?" Dean asked, and Sam wondered.

Jack's grin was mischievous, and just a little bit scary. Sam knew something bad was coming. Then he blinked, and there was a strong gust of wind, and Jack had disappeared.

"What the -" said Dean, turning on the spot and searching, "Where'd he go?"

Sam, on the other hand, was watching the skies. Random patches of snow above powerlines and the corners of buildings marked where Jack had been, but Sam didn't see the boy anywhere. He hadn't realised until then just how fast Jack Frost really was.

"Watch out!"

The shout gave the brothers maybe half a second of warning. And then Jack swept between them, laughing. The sudden wind he brought with him knocked Sam and Dean off their feet, and they fell backwards. Where Sam expected snow, he instead landed on something hard. Jack had dropped two large sheets of old but strong wood beneath the brothers.

"Hold on tight!" he told them, again flashing that mischievous, terrifying grin. Sam automatically did so, gripping the edges of the wood tight. Before he could actually brace himself, though, Jack had swept his staff along the ground in front of them.

Ice sprang up, and the wind strengthened, and Sam and Dean were suddenly moving on their makeshift sleds. There wasn't a gradual build-up, either. One second they were stationary, and the next, with two startled shouts, they were speeding along the ice with the air whipping against them and the street around them blurring. Sam's eyes started stinging, and he had to squint against the force of their speed. To his right, Dean was swearing and shouting, in detail, about exactly how he would kill Jack when they stopped.

Jack, on the contrary, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He kept alternating his movements - sometimes he was skating bare-footed along the ice that magically appeared in front of him, and sometimes he was flying just above their heads, spinning and twirling in the wind like a leaf. His whooping laughter rang in Sam's ears as he sped along with them. Sam was reminded of that time when he was a kid, zooming down a mountain with the Abominable Snowman chasing after him. This time was less life-threatening, he thought, but just as fun. If he could get past the threat of motion-sickness, of course.

"This is a bit boring, don't you think?" said Jack, floating on his back beside Sam and grinning. Then he swept ahead of them again. When Sam saw what he was doing, he thought he might be sick. A few feet in front of them, the ice suddenly curved upwards, and looped in a circle like on a rollercoaster. Jack had to be joking…

"Oh my God," Sam muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut just as they hit the ramp. He felt the world flip around him, but didn't dare look to see. After they made it around, the sheet of wood landed back on the ground with a thump that sent Sam bouncing a few inches into the air.

Jack Frost cheered. The brothers sped on.

They were no longer in the town when they stopped, but Sam didn't think they'd gone much further. It was a clearing in the middle of the woods, bare trees sparse around them and the ground dry where it wasn't covered in snow. The makeshift sled beneath Sam skidded to a stop, and he stood on wobbly legs to look around.

"Now_ that_ was more like it!" laughed Jack from his perch on a tree branch.

Dean, who was still seated, shot him a dizzy glare. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he moaned, "And when I'm done, I'm going to shoot you."

"Aw, come on." Jack didn't look at all troubled by the threat. He dropped to the ground and leaned against his stick. "I get it wasn't your gross idea of a fun time, but wasn't that _great?"_

"No."

"Hm, suit yourself," he said, and then laughed when Dean rolled face-first off the sheet of wood and into the dirty ground.

"Where are we?" asked Sam, who had regained his balance, "Where do we find this Pitch guy?"

Jack flew over to a hole in the ground and pointed into it. "This is the entrance to his hiding place."

Sam and Dean went over and leaned over the edge. It wasn't a large hole, width-wise, but it seemed deep. Sam couldn't see more than a few feet into the darkness.

"You expect us to go down there?" asked Dean.

"Yep."

"How far down is it?" asked Sam. He had to admit, he didn't like the idea of going into the deep blackness any more than his brother.

"Far," Jack replied simply. He floated behind them, so that he could peer over their shoulders, and gestured for them to go in. "After you."

"Are you crazy?" Dean demanded.

Jack smirked and prodded him in the back with his stick. "You scared, Princess?"

That was definitely a challenge. Dean bit.

"Of course not," he said, "But I bet that if we took that stick away, you wouldn't be so brave yourself, Bo Peep."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Jack's smirk widened, and then he took hold of the brothers' arms and flung all three of them into the hole.

Sam tried not to panic as he fell. The blackness was crushing. He couldn't see his own hands. All he could do was feel the small hand still on his arm, his brother at his side, and, of course, the rushing wind that pushed against him from all sides. How fast were they falling? How long til they hit the bottom? All he knew for sure was that they were steadily getting deeper and deeper underground.

Then, suddenly, impossibly, their descent slowed. The wind wasn't as harsh anymore. Instead of pushing against them, it seemed to be carrying them, cushioning their fall. Sam sighed in relief, and heard Dean do the same. He couldn't see anything, but he heard Jack Frost's voice very close to his head.

"I've got it all under control. You guys should learn to trust me more."

"After you just pushed us into a deep, dark hole?" asked Dean, "Yeah, no thanks."

Jack's bubbling laughter replied.

They landed with a gentle thud, the wind depositing them in a heap on hard ground. Sam was surprised to find that it somehow wasn't as dark as the tunnel had been. He still had to strain his eyes to see, but amidst the shadows there was a dim light coming from God-knew-where, illuminating colourless walls and floors.

"Through this way," whispered Jack. The paleness of his face, eyes, and hair were easier for Sam to see, like they glowed in the dark. He could also see that the boy seemed much more tense now, and held his stick tightly with both hands in front of him like a weapon. Sam wondered whether this really was a bad idea. But he and Dean followed Jack anyway, careful not to make any sound as they crept along the cave-like walls. It was obvious by the sureness of Jack's movements that he knew exactly where he was going. Had he been there before?

They came out into the open suddenly, and Sam hadn't been expecting it at all. One moment they were in claustrophobic darkness, and the next they were on a kind of balcony overlooking a huge underground chamber. It was a labyrinth of staircases and walkways and bridges. It almost hurt Sam's eyes to make sense of the tangle.

Jack took hold of the brothers' jackets, and jumped with them over to one of the staircases. He lifted their weight easily, despite the vast differences in size. Or perhaps he was just using the wind to carry them. They jumped a couple more times, until they were standing somewhere near the centre of the chamber.

Shadows sprang up around the walls and started circling them menacingly. Jack tensed, looking almost frightened. His reaction made Sam and Dean follow suit, instinctively drawing their guns. They stood back-to-back-to-back, watching the shadows draw closer.

"I thought I heard intruders," said a voice suddenly.

Sam, Dean, and Jack turned instantly to face it. There was a man standing on a balcony above their heads. A tall, thin man, clothed in darkness. He stood straight with his hands behind his back, looking down at them. He wasn't glaring, nor did he look angry. Instead he bared his teeth at his intruders in a twisted sort of smile.

"But I never expected to find this," he continued in a smooth voice. Then he vanished into the shadows and reappeared directly in front of them. "Jack Frost. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Jack stood in front of the brothers, his stick pointed threateningly at the man. "Pitch Black. We have a few questions for you."

Pitch put a hand to his chest mockingly. "I'm truly honoured. Let me guess… This is about the murders up top."

Jack moved his stick so that it was pointing directly at Pitch's chest. Sam followed his aim, his finger resting on the trigger of his gun. Something that put the otherwise constantly cheerful Jack Frost this on edge couldn't be good news.

"How do you know about that?" demanded Jack, "I know it wasn't you."

"No?" Pitch sounded faintly amused.

"You're still too weak. I can tell just looking at you. You're _nothing_, Pitch."

He _did_ look weak, too. Sam could make out the signs; the dark rings under uncomfortably yellow eyes; the sallow skin; the slightly out-of-breath voice with which he spoke.

"So you thought it was a good idea to come to _my home_ and _threaten me?"_ He was definitely angry now.

"I beat you once, I can do it again," said Jack.

Pitch shook his head, another smile twisting his features. "Oh no, Jack. You're in my domain now." His voice was soft again._ "I_ have the power here."

To prove his point, he raised his hands and the shadows advanced closer. Sam and Dean kept their guns levelled at Pitch, no matter how much they wanted to aim for the writhing darkness.

"I wonder - do the other Guardians know where you are?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Pitch," Jack replied, through gritted teeth by the sound of it. A small blast of ice shot from the hook of his stick to the nearest shadow, which retreated slightly.

_"You_ aren't, perhaps," said Pitch. His golden gaze shifted to Sam and Dean, who held their guns steady. Sam was unsettled by the look, and was sorely tempted to just start shooting then and there.

"But you've brought me fresh meat. The Winchester brothers… Yes, I've heard of you," he added when they jolted, "How could I not? A lifetime of such delicious fear. Thank you, Jack. This is quite a gift you've given me."

Jack moved in a way that made Sam think he was trying to shield them. It seemed so odd; the tiny boy protecting two grown men.

"You leave them alone!"

The tendrils of shadows shifted. Some of them grew and some of them shrank. They were changing shape. Sam and Dean were suddenly faced with the silhouettes of almost every monster they'd ever fought.

"You think that's enough to scare us?" asked Dean, his aim never wavering. Sam nodded in agreement. These were all monsters they'd beaten. Why would they be scared?

Sound joined the shadows. A feral growling and barking, and the heavy footsteps of hundreds of paws. It echoed around them, too close, and Sam swallowed. Hellhounds.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that," said Dean, but the slight tremble of his voice betrayed him.

The sound and shadows died down, to Sam's great surprise, and there was only Pitch left.

"Oh, I will," said the bogeyman, "You've given me so much to work with, after all." He looked back at Jack. "Do you want to know their greatest fears, Jack?"

"Don't do this, Pitch," Jack warned, "We're only here to talk."

"To talk? And you thought it necessary to bring along weapons?" When he didn't get an answer, Pitch smiled. "You just want to talk? Then prove it. Give me your staff, Jack, and then we'll talk."

Jack pulled his stick closer to his small body. He held it protectively, and Sam thought his knuckles looked whiter than usual. "Do you really expect me to fall for that again?"

"Bo Peep's not the one you should be worried about," said Dean, "A stick and a bit of snow? Sam and I, on the other hand… Have you ever been shot before? It might not kill you, but it sure as hell hurts." He and Sam moved forward to stand by Jack, their guns ready. "We're not afraid of the bogeyman."

Pitch laughed. The sound made Sam's blood run cold. "Of course you're not. The Winchester brothers aren't afraid of anything! Except that you are. I know your greatest fear. Both of you. It's being left alone."

Sam froze, and Dean did the same beside him, and Pitch continued talking.

"Everybody dying. Your mother, your father, your women, your friends, your mentor, your angel. Everybody, until you have no one left but each other. And then you won't even have that."

"Shut up!" shouted Sam, his finger tightening on the trigger of his gun. He no longer held it steady, though. His hands were shaking. Dean was even worse off than him; his entire body was trembling like mad.

"Leave them alone!" yelled Jack.

"I'm just having a little fun," said Pitch, "You of all people should understand that, Jack."

"Pitch!" He swung his stick, and ice shot towards the bogeyman. Pitch, however, dodged quickly. Only the hem of his robe was patterned with frost.

"But I almost forgot!" Pitch's voice was taunting. "You and them really aren't all that different after all. All of you, so terrified of being alone."

"I'm not alone anymore!" Jack swung some more ice. But Sam could tell that the boy was being affected just as badly as the him and Dean. The three of them were gasping, the force of their trembling leaving them short of breath.

"Of course. You're a _Guardian_ now," Pitch said, bitterly, "But how long will that last, Jack? They made you a Guardian because you did them a favour. You know they don't really want you."

It was these words that seemed to snap Jack out of his fear. He stood straighter, and the shaking lessened. "I'm not alone," he repeated loudly, "The Man in the Moon chose me. I'm a Guardian and I'm not alone!" Then he glanced at Sam and Dean, and he touched their arms. Sam exhaled at the contact and found the strength to raise his gun again. "And these guys aren't alone either."

That was what they needed. The truth. They weren't alone.

Dean gasped, as though he'd spent the last few minutes holding his breath. Sam felt the same, and as his body relaxed it was like a vice around his chest was releasing its hold.

Pitch looked surprised. "You're growing up, Frost."

Jack's reply was a blast of ice, which encased Pitch's feet and stuck them to the floor. The bogeyman could probably have broken free, had he tried.

"Oh, so now it's 'Frost?'" asked Jack, sounding back to his normal self, "I guess that means our fun really is over. Time to talk, Pitch. What do you know about the Monster Under the Bed?"

"And try to lie to us, we won't hesitate to shoot," added Dean. Unnecessarily, as it turned out. Pitch talked readily enough.

"The Monster Under the Bed," he repeated, "That used to be one of the many names I went by. The Monster Under the Bed, the Monster in the Closet. But soon enough my roles were replaced, and I was merely the ruler of fear instead."

"Why is it here, now?" asked Jack.

"Even after I was replaced, little children continued to think of us as the same being. The Monster didn't generate enough belief of his own to be able to frighten children. But all that changed, Jack, when you and the Guardians defeated me nearly three years ago. Suddenly the bogeyman wasn't real anymore. There was nothing left to block the Monster. Nothing to stop it."

Jack frowned. "Are you saying that this is _my_ fault?"

"Why, Jack. Do I sense a touch of guilt?" Pitch sneered down at the boy, who looked at his own bare feet.

"No," said Sam. There had been too much guilt in his lifetime to allow it to rear up now. "Jack, listen. I don't know what happened a few years ago, but if it meant beating _this_ guy -" He shot Pitch a glare "- I don't think you did anything wrong. Whatever's happening now, don't blame yourself."

"I'm fine," said Jack, "I know we did the right thing." He scowled at Pitch, his hands tightening around his stick. "The Monster. How do we stop it?"

"What makes you think I'll tell you that?"

"I can think of something," said Dean, nodding at his and Sam's guns.

Jack raised a hand to dissuade them from shooting. He moved forward, floating in the air so that he and Pitch were almost nose-to-nose. "If I'm right, this belief thing goes both ways. Doesn't it? While the Monster's around, you can't regain your power. So either you tell us how to stop him, or you spend the rest of eternity wasting away down here, with only your own fear for company."

Sam had to give it to him - the small boy could sound downright threatening when he tried. He held his breath as he waited for Pitch's response.

"We each hold more power in our own domains. You, Jack, in the winter. Myself right here, in the darkness."

"So- so you're saying that the Monster is the same?" asked Jack.

"Figure it out for yourself," said Pitch. The ice around his feet shattered then, and he drew back into the shadows until glinting yellow eyes and sharp teeth were all that Sam could see. "Now leave. And don't bother me again for at least a hundred years."

Even the teeth and eyes vanished at that, and Pitch was gone.

It was harder to get back to the surface than it was to get underground. Jack had his wind help lift them out of the tunnel, but it was slow work. Sam wasn't sure he liked the sensation of rising high into the blackness with only supernatural wind and a small, skinny boy to support him. He was pretty sure, in fact, that he disliked it more than falling into the blackness. Finally, though, they were out of the hole and the crisp, fresh air had never tasted so good.

"Okay," said Jack sheepishly, "So maybe that wasn't my _best_ idea ever."

Sam and Dean scowled at him.

"Going to meet the bogeyman wasn't a great idea," said Dean, "I wonder who could have seen that coming."

"We all got out of it in one piece. And we grew stronger as a team because of it." Jack's words came out almost like a question. Sam shook his head silently in reply, and the boy deflated. "At least we found out what we needed to. We just have to lure the Monster out of his domain and we'll be able to defeat him."

"And how are we going to do that?" asked Dean, "We don't know where its domain is. How are we supposed to draw it out?"

Sam's phone beeped in his pocket, making him jump with the suddenness. He pulled it out and frowned at the screen. Whilst they had been underground, he had missed four calls from a number he didn't recognise. He supposed they _had_ been out of range…

He pressed the call button, and was surprised when someone answered right away.

"Sam? Is that you?" whispered a small voice.

"Jamie?" asked Sam in surprise. That earned him Jack's attention, and a curious look.

"You gave me your number yesterday. I-is Jack with you?" His voice wobbled, as though he was trying not to cry. Sam's heart sank as he automatically imagined the worst.

"Has something happened? Jamie, what's wrong?"

He definitely had Jack's attention now. He was at Sam's side in an instant, and had a cold hand on the fingers that held the phone. "Let me talk to him."

"Hang on," said Sam into the receiver, "I'm going to put you on loudspeaker, okay?"

"O-okay."

He adjusted the settings and held the phone in front of him so that Dean and Jack could join the conversation.

"We're all listening, Jamie," said Sam, "Tell us what's wrong."

"Jack?"

"I'm here, kiddo," Jack assured him. His voice was normal, but Sam could see that his expression was strained. Jack obviously cared about Jamie very much.

"Jack, I'm scared."

"It's okay," said Jack quickly, "Everything's going to be okay. Talk to me, Jamie. What happened?"

"It- Sophie," said Jamie. Sam glanced at the others, and saw that Jack had gone far paler than usual. There was no colour at all in his face. He looked as white as the snow he was famous for.

"Is she alright?" he asked, more urgently now.

"She- she's fine." At Jamie's reassurance, he visibly relaxed. "But, Jack- She told Mom that there's a monster under her bed."

There was silence at that. No one moved even a muscle, as though they had forgotten how. Jack was the first to break the stillness, hugging his stick tight to his chest so that his cheek pressed hard against the wood. His eyes were squeezed shut like he was trying not to cry. It was so much worse than what Pitch had thrown at them.

"What did your mom say?" asked Sam, because it seemed like Jack wasn't able to speak.

There was a moment of hesitation from Jamie, and then, "She said it wasn't real. Now Sophie's telling me that the monster's angry."

Jack's eyes snapped open, and he snatched the phone out of Sam's hand. "Listen to me, Jamie. I know you're scared, but you're going to be alright. I'll be there in five minutes, and we're going to stop this thing."

"Okay," said Jamie's sniffling voice.

"Jamie," said Jack firmly, "I promised you that I wouldn't let the monster hurt you, right? Would I lie to you?" There was a pause in which Sam imagined Jamie shaking his head. "I'll be there soon. Just believe in me and everything will be alright."

**A/N: Did everyone get enough of an angst-fix here? With these characters, it's kind of amazing it took me so long.**

**A few of you were looking forward to the confrontation in this chapter. How did I do? I personally thought that Pitch in the movie was insanely creepy, so I hope I managed to get that through here.**

**As always, you guys are amazing! I love reading all your feedback. Really, I can't say how much I appreciate every single one of you reviewers/favourit-ers/follows!**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!**


	11. The Calm and the Storm

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 10: The Calm and the Storm**

Jack would have flown off the second Sam ended the call, but he couldn't leave the brothers stranded in the middle of the woods. So he was forced to take the slower route, with Sam and Dean sledding on the ice behind him.

_Not them_, he thought desperately, picking up his speed. _Not him._

Not adorable little Sophie.

Not Jamie.

"Jack!" Sam called out. He shrugged his shoulders to show that he'd heard. "Don't worry so much! The Monster attacks at night. There's still four hours of daylight, at least."

Sam was right, of course. But he didn't understand why Jack was in such a rush. It wasn't about getting the Monster before it got Mrs Bennett. It was about being there for a terrified Jamie. It was about reassuring his best friend that everything would be okay.

Of course, getting the Monster was an added bonus. After everything it had done, all the lines it had crossed…

It was going to pay.

Jamie's neighbourhood seemed strangely peaceful when they arrived. It was as though nothing had changed at all since they'd left. The other children were still playing in the snow, making the most of Jack's snow day. A few adults who had finished work early were in the process of driving home. The afternoon was bright and calm.

Jamie was waiting on the bottom porch step for Jack and the brothers. He jumped to his feet when they came into sight, and ran forward to meet them at the fence. Without giving him time to brace himself, Jamie threw his arms around Jack's middle and held tight.

Jack stumbled backwards slightly at the force of the hug. As soon as he regained his balance, though, he knelt down to hug back. He thought that he was never going to get used to this feeling. He could only wish that it was under better circumstances.

Jack felt calmer at seeing Jamie safe. The visual proof that the boy really was alright made relief flood into his lungs, and he exhaled the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"I've got you, Jamie," he said, "You're okay."

Jamie sniffed into his shoulder. Was he crying? But when he pulled away, his wide brown eyes were dry. "I know. Thanks, Jack."

Jack squeezed his shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Where's your sister?" asked Dean, coming up behind them, "And your mom?"

"Inside," replied Jamie, "Sophie's watching tv and Mom's cooking dinner. They're okay."

"We aren't gonna let anything happen to them," said Sam. He smiled at Jamie. "You did the right thing in calling us."

"Of course he did," said Jack, "He's the smartest kid I know." He winked at Jamie and ruffled his hair. "C'mon, kiddo. Back inside. I'll keep an eye on Soph and your mom until it gets dark."

Jamie went back up the stairs into the house and Jack followed. Sam and Dean moved to join him, but he stopped them. They really weren't very bright, were they? Maybe he shouldn't have hit them over their heads after all. It had obviously done them permanent damage.

"And what's Jamie's mom going to think when two strange men barge into her house?" he asked.

"So you're just going to go alone?" asked Dean, "We have no idea what's in there."

"Aw, nice to know you worry about me." Jack smirked. "I know how to take care of myself, Dean. Jamie's mom can't see me, and we're not about to leave them unprotected. And like Sam said, the Monster only attacks at night. I'll keep an eye on them until then, and then we can catch it. Unless you have any better ideas?" Before they could think up an excuse, Jack was inside the house. "You guys wait in the car, across the road. I'll meet you outside Jamie's window when the kids go to bed."

He saw two frustrated faces as he swung the door shut behind him.

Just like Jamie had told him, Sophie was sitting on the floor in front of the television when he entered the living room. Her one visible, bright green eye looked up at him. "Jack!"

He took a seat next to her. "Hey there, Soph. What are we watching?"

She giggled and pointed at the brightly coloured shapes that danced around on the screen. Jack couldn't make any sense of it, but he grinned along with her anyway.

Jamie sat on the couch behind them. "Where did you go today, Jack? I was trying to call for ages, but Sam didn't answer."

"Sorry, Jamie. I'd say we were most likely out of range." Jack knew the basics of how cell-phones worked. It made him laugh when Jamie was surprised at his knowledge. In response, Jack would ruffle his hair and remind him that he was old, not a time-traveller. He had watched technology develop. He could keep up with it all.

Jamie frowned. "Around here? How far away did you go?"

"Deep underground," he said, "We went to talk to Pitch."

Brown eyes widened in alarm at that. "The Bogeyman? Did he hurt you?"

Jack waved off his concern. "He couldn't hurt me if he tried," he lied, "Don't worry, we just talked. He told us how to defeat the Monster."

"How?" asked Jamie, looking mostly reassured. His eyes were wide with awe now, rather than worry.

"We have to lure it out of its domain." Wherever its domain was, of course. Jack decided not to worry Jamie with that detail, though. He grinned instead. "Easy."

"What's a domming?" asked Sophie, tugging on Jack's sleeve. He hadn't realised that she'd been listening.

"It's like a home," he told her, "We need to get the Monster out of its house so that it doesn't bother you anymore. Sound good?"

Sophie smiled and nodded, her messy blonde hair bouncing into even more of a mess. "It lives under my bed. Will you get it out?"

"Of course!" he said, only partly in reply to her. The other part was in realisation. He honestly felt rather stupid for taking so_ long_ to realise. It was the Monster Under the Bed. What else would its domain be? Jack almost slapped himself for being such an idiot. He settled for merely sighing. He was getting old.

* * *

Sam held back a yawn as he watched the sun slowly, so _slowly_, go down, leaving a steadily darkening sky behind it. It had been a long day. No, scratch that. It had been a long weekend. Sam was starting to just want the case to be over so that they could leave Burgess for good. At least, if everything went well, they might be able to end the case tonight. They had no plan, but since when was a plan ever necessary? Running in with guns firing had only failed them a handful of times before.

The second that night fell, he was climbing out of the car.

"Time to roll," muttered Dean, following suit.

They loaded up with as many guns as they could comfortably fit on their person, which wasn't nearly as many as they would have liked. Luckily there was no one around to see them creep into the Bennett family's back yard.

Jack was waiting for them, as promised. He sat sideways on the edge of Jamie's slightly-open window, his legs squashed up in the small space of the window frame, and his stick leaning against the wall. He didn't look up when the brothers arrived, instead peering into Jamie's room and absently drawing frost patterns on the glass with his fingertip.

"All quiet?" whispered Sam.

Jack nodded. "Their mom's still up. She's the one the Monster will target."

"Which one's her window?" asked Dean.

"Around the side of the house, second along."

Dean nodded and after a look of 'be careful' at Sam, he went to go guard it.

Sam followed Jack's gaze, seeing Jamie's bed through the window. Two small lumps under the blankets were breathing evenly. It seemed that Sophie had opted to sleep in Jamie's room that night. Keeping the kids together - that would help matters significantly. Sam also thought he saw a hint of gold, but when he blinked it was gone.

"They're dreaming," Jack said quietly, "I can't quite make out the shapes, but it looks like a good one. Sandy must know something's up."

"Sandy?" asked Sam.

Jack finally turned away to look at him. His hood was pulled over his head, hiding the white of his hair and casting shadows over the sharp features of his pale face. He looked almost eerie like that, Sam thought.

"The Sandman," he explained, "The Guardian of Dreams."

Sam looked back into Jamie's room and, yes, there was the gold again. There was a string of it trailing in through the window all the way to the air above the kids' heads. Then there were moving figures above a swirling nest of gold. Sand, Sam realised.

"You never really mentioned the other Guardians," he said. It hadn't really crossed his mind before, but now he wondered about them. Jack Frost and the Sandman. Who else was there?

Jack shrugged his thin shoulders. "I don't see them all that often. A couple of times a year, maybe. They're always so busy."

There was a slightly melancholy tone to his voice. Sam saw, then, through his words and the strangely sad expression on his face as he watched the siblings sleep, that Jack was still lonely. Or, at least, that he was still recovering from three centuries of loneliness.

"What are they like?" Sam asked quietly.

A smile was on his lips when he answered. "They're great. Sandy's quiet, but he always knows what to say, and he's always so cheerful, too. Tooth's always working hard, she's so passionate about her job. Bunny's a bit of a pain, I guess, but he's fun to prank. And North is like an old grandfather or something. I'm pretty new to the whole Guardian thing, but he helped me adjust to everything."

"They all sound pretty great," agreed Sam. They sounded like a family. "And what about Jamie?"

"Jamie?" Jack sounded surprised. "What about him?"

"You care about him a lot. The way you act around each other… Like brothers." It was the only way he could explain it. It was the only way it could _be_ explained. Jack and Jamie's relationship - it was familiar to Sam.

Jack seemed to let that sink in for a moment. He smiled. "I suppose you'd know all about that. You and Dean are lucky to have each other. You really have no idea how much."

Sam knew perfectly well. He didn't need three hundred years of loneliness to back up how lucky he was to have his brother. The death and destruction that had shadowed them throughout their lives was more than enough.

He glanced at Jack, who suddenly seemed so old. With the youthful face and ever-mischievous eyes, it was easy to forget that the small boy was really the centuries-old spirit of winter.

"You know, you really aren't what I expected," Sam told him.

Jack's lips quirked up. "I can say the same about you," he shot back, "You and your brother? Full of surprises."

"Appearances can be deceiving, I guess."

"Very," he agreed, "Remind me to introduce you to the Easter Bunny sometime."

Sam laughed softly, the sound loud in the quiet night, but he had a feeling that Jack wasn't kidding. He didn't ask.

"How's this attack going to go?" he wondered aloud. Sure, a plan wasn't necessary. But an outline could be useful.

"Get Mrs Bennett out first. Then we need to draw the Monster out from under the bed," Jack replied, "Once he's in the open, we can attack."

"And…" Sam hesitated. "And if it doesn't work?"

Jack's look was sharp, but then his eyes softened into fear and he looked like a young boy again. "I don't know," he replied quietly, hugging his knees. He pushed back his hood and looked up at the sky, and his face was suddenly bathed in milky moonlight. His voice was firmer when he spoke again. "It'll work, though. We'll stop this thing."

Sam believed him. He nudged him in a friendly gesture and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," said Jack, and the firmness with which he said it made it clear that he wasn't just thanking Sam for the support. It was a final kind of thank you, the kind that was said before taking the risky leap into danger. It was a thank you for everything.

"Thanks yourself," Sam replied. Then, after a quick clap of a cold shoulder, he turned away and went after his brother.

Dean was around the side of the house, leaning against the wall. Next to him was a tall window. The curtains were drawn shut so they couldn't see inside, but orange light was streaming through the gaps. Mrs Bennett was still safe. For now.

"Good?" Sam asked anyway, sitting against the wall next to him.

"She's not Monster food yet," Dean replied. He nodded in the direction of Jack. "How's the snowflake?"

"Worried," said Sam, "Although he seems pretty sure that everything will be alright. He said to draw the Monster out from under the bed. I guess after that we start shooting."

"Right. When is anything that simple?"

Sam shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe this time it will be."

The lights through the window flickered off. Sam and Dean stilled.

The waiting began.

"Jack!" whispered Sam as loudly as he dared. The wind picked up slightly, but Jack didn't join them. Sam hadn't expected otherwise. There was no way Jack was leaving his post by Jamie's window until the Monster's exact location was known.

So until then it was just the two brothers, waiting in still, tense silence.

Sam was struggling not to nod off near midnight. That was when the first sound crept through the glass. Something inside the bedroom slithered and rustled and hissed. Sam jolted fully awake and scrambled to his feet.

"Is that..?"

A whoosh of air ruffled his hair. Jack was suddenly silently there, standing in the snow beside the brothers.

"What are you guys waiting for?" he asked urgently, pulling at the window. Unlike Jamie's, though, it was locked.

"Move!" ordered Dean. Jack stepped aside, allowing him to smash the glass with the butt of his gun.

The sound of crumbling glass woke Mrs Bennett. She bolted upright and scrambled to turn on her bedside lamp. Before she could scream at the two intruders, Sam saw a hand grab her ankle.

A loud thud reverberated when she hit the floor, followed by screaming.

"Help her!" shouted Jack, already in the room.

He blasted ice under the bed while Sam and Dean followed him inside and ran to grasp Mrs Bennett by the arms. She looked up at them with fearful tears in her eyes. But when she realised that they were trying to pull her out of the Monster's grasp, she clung to them desperately. She kicked and screamed at the Monster, and earned a set of sharp fingernails scraping down her leg for her efforts, drawing thick lines of blood. She screamed louder.

With much struggling, the brothers got her free and immediately pulled her to the door out of harm's way.

"Go get the kids and get out of here!" Dean shouted at her.

She looked dazed and confused and terrified, but she nodded and stumbled off, limping on her bloodied leg.

Sam turned back to the ongoing fight. Jack was jumping back and forth around the room, shooting more and more ice at the creature to the point that the room had become uncomfortably cold. The Monster Under the Bed's outline was visible in the dark, writhing against the attacks. Then it stilled.

"It's trying to run!" Jack yelled, "Oh no you don't!"

Sam opened fire on the creature, and Dean did the same beside him. But the Monster stayed hidden in the darkness.

"How is this not affecting it?" Dean asked over the loud gunshots.

"It's stronger in its domain!" Jack shouted back, "We need to get it out!"

"And how're we supposed to do that?"

Sam knew the answer immediately. He stopped shooting and instead yelled at the Monster. "You're not real!"

It roared at his words. Dean also stopped shooting, although he kept his gun aimed at the thing.

"You're not real!" Sam repeated, "I told Jamie that, and I'll tell the rest of the kids. I'll go tell them right now! You aren't real!" There was silence. "So come and get me."

It did.

First there was a pair of arms, bony and thin and covered in rotting yellow flesh. The nails were more like claws, and they dug into the carpet to drag the rest of the Monster's body out. Its head was down, revealing small clumps of dusty hair surrounded by more yellowed skin. The rest of its body was just as bony as the arms, and naked apart from a filthy loincloth around its waist. It stank, too, like rotting flesh. Sam almost gagged at the stench that wriggled its way into his lungs. Dean and Jack didn't look to be faring any better.

The Monster looked up. Beady black eyes were sunk into its face over a chunk of a nose and a mouth full of browned and crooked, but very sharp, teeth. Bits of what looked sickeningly like flesh and sinew were stuck in its gums. The teeth were currently bared up at Sam.

"Mustn't tell dirty lies to the little kiddies. You'll get punished."

Sam and Dean didn't wait to hear more. They continued shooting, and Jack joined their attack, too. The Monster was surprisingly agile, though. It dodged the bullets and frost, swinging around the room and jumping onto furniture. Sam saw one of the bullets hit, sinking into the Monster's thigh. It didn't bleed, nor did the wound slow it down.

"Can't kill me! Can't kill me! Jack Frost should know. We're all immortal, silly Guardian."

Sam gritted his teeth together and kept shooting. More bullets hit the Monster, but not even the one to the chest stopped it.

"Nothing's immortal!" snapped Dean. If there was one thing they'd learned during a lifetime of hunting, it was that.

"Legends come close!" Jack said, swinging his stick at the Monster when it jumped right by him. "However we're going to stop this thing, it has to be some other way. Just try to hurt it enough to slow it down!"

"Well it would've been great if you'd mentioned that earlier!"

They ran out of bullets before the Monster slowed down.

"Crap!" exclaimed Sam, throwing his guns aside, "Now what?"

Jack was the only one left fighting. He threw ice and snow and frost at the creature, seemingly everything he had, but it dodged all of it. It started advancing on him, and he stumbled backwards against the wardrobe. His attacks grew desperate.

The Monster cackled. "Poor little Guardian! Jack Frost, all scared and in danger! Where's your little friends to get you out of trouble this time?"

Sam charged forward and did something stupid. He punched the Monster as hard as he could. "We're right here!" he shouted. Well, if they didn't have guns… He started pummelling the Monster before it could recover from his first punch. He hit and punched and scratched every inch of sallow skin he could find.

The Monster fought back. It was strong for its size, and its nails were sharper. Sam yelled out in pain when he felt the nails drag down his side, digging and tearing through his skin. The Monster laughed. Then it choked.

Dean had come up behind it and had caught it in a headlock. But the Monster struggled, kicking at his knees and biting his forearm with its sharp teeth. Dean somehow kept hold of it, and Sam pulled out his knife. The Monster went still at the glint of silver, but it didn't stop laughing.

"Jack Frost does have friends! Poor, silly Jack Frost. Doesn't think that I do, too."

Sam glanced at Jack, who was still backed against the wardrobe. The boy's eyes widened. "What-"

The wardrobe doors swung open, and a hand reached out. Before Jack had time to react, it had taken hold of his hood and dragged him backwards. Arms held him at the front of the wardrobe, and a face identical to the Monster Under the Bed's peered out of the darkness above his head. Sharp teeth gleamed and claws pressed against Jack's throat, drawing blood. Jack winced and stilled his struggles. Sam realised that Legends might be near immortal, but they were far from invulnerable. Who knew what a slit throat would do to the boy? Probably even he didn't.

"Jack!" Sam yelled.

The Monster took advantage of the brothers' distraction to break itself free from Dean's hold. It leaped over to the wardrobe and examined Jack, who glared back but didn't dare move. Sam and Dean started forward to attack, but the Monster held up a bony finger.

"No, no, no. Don't want your little friend to get hurt."

The two Monsters had a hostage, and Sam and Dean had nothing.

"You've got me. Let them go," said Jack, watching the brothers with anxious eyes. Sam wondered how he could possibly be worrying about them. The Monster laughed.

"Spoken like a true Guardian," said the one holding Jack.

"The Monster In the Closet, I assume," said Dean slowly, "Man, the jokes write themselves."

"Mocking me?" It gave Jack a little shake in its anger.

"You two quiet," said the Monster Under the Bed, "We want the little Guardian only."

"Why do you want me?" asked Jack, "Were you targeting me all along?"

"Should be thanking Jack Frost," it said, "Giving us belief back. So nice."

"But then taking it all for yourself," growled the Monster In the Closet, "Not enough belief to go around."

"That's what this is about?" Jack sounded incredulous. "You think that the kids believing in me is stopping them from believing in you? You're both crazy."

"What makes Jack Frost think he's so special?" asked the Monster Under the Bed angrily. It reached forward suddenly and wrenched the stick out of his hands. "This bit of wood?"

Jack had been careful before, keeping still and calm so that the claws pressed against his throat didn't cut deeper. Now, though, he was panicking. His face was paler than white, and his eyes were wide. He struggled, tugging at the arm around his chest.

"Give it back! Please! Don't-"

The Monster held the stick with both hands over its bony thigh. Sam realised what it was about to do, but he was powerless to stop. Neither he nor Dean could do anything while the Monsters had their hostage.

"No!" yelled Jack, too late. The wood splintered slowly, so slowly, before finally snapping, and Sam almost winced at the sight. A wince would have been better than the choked scream of agony that Jack let out. It was only a short scream, but no less pained than if it had been Jack himself torn in half. Then he went slightly limp in the Monster's arms.

The Monsters laughed, and Sam felt sick at the sound.

"Not tough any more," said the Monster Under the Bed, "How fun that was! Don't you think, Jack Frost? Does the Guardian of Fun agree?"

Sam stepped forward, shaking with anger. Jack had never seemed more like a child as he'd pleaded for mercy and then been quickly but effectively tortured. The Monsters had crossed the line. "Put him down. Now."

"If you say so," said the Monster Under the Bed, and the Monster In the Closet threw Jack aside like a rag doll. Jack grunted when he hit the wall and slumped on the ground, curling in on himself. He looked exhausted. Sam knew he was officially out of the fight.

No more guns, no more ice. What else did they have?

Dean nudged Sam while the Monsters laughed. "I have an idea," he said quietly, "Distract them."

Trusting his brother's words, and without a second of thought, Sam launched himself forward and started swinging his fists at the Monsters once again. It was two against one, and he was overpowered before he knew it. His lip split and his body bruised and he held back sharp cries with every hit he took. But as he was beaten without mercy, he fought back, lashing out blindly and sometimes even making contact.

The smell of gasoline filled the air, and a metallic clink reached Sam's ears. The Monsters noticed it, too, and halted their assault to look up. Dean, forgotten by both, stood beside the bed, his lighter held over the gas-soaked mattress. The Monster Under the Bed lunged forward, but the lighter dropped faster, and it stopped with a shriek of pain and terror. Flames engulfed the bed, growing higher and higher until they touched the ceiling. The ice from Jack's attacks melted quickly, steam rising up and filling the room like a sauna. Sam was sweating in the sudden heat.

The Monster Under the Bed continued screaming, and then fire engulfed it, too. It flashed white hot, and then it was gone.

The Monster In the Closet wailed at seeing its brother disappear before it, and it withdrew into the wardrobe. Sam caught its wrist before it could flee completely, though, and held it tight. "Not so fast," he growled.

The same fate followed. Another inhuman scream, another blaze of flame, a wardrobe burning into ash. And it was over.

Except, of course, for the still burning bedroom.

The brothers ran to where Jack had been thrown, and found that the boy was faring badly. Winter Spirits and fire did not mix, apparently. When Sam pulled him off the ground, his eyes had gone raw red and, although he was still cold as ice, his face was worryingly flushed. His fingers grasped weakly at Sam's jacket.

"My staff," he croaked.

Sam looked at Dean, who quickly rescued the two pieces of broken wood before they could burn. Perhaps it could be mended, although Sam highly doubted it.

The window was blocked by flame, so they escaped through the door instead. The fire was spreading. Sam dragged Jack through the house, away from the heat, with Dean following. They didn't stop until they were outside on the snowy lawn.

Thankfully, the Bennett family and their dog were already outside, watching the flames erupting from Mrs Bennett's window with terrified expressions. The sound of sirens approached.

Jamie's face turned to relief when he saw the brothers and Jack exit the house. He hugged Sophie tightly to his side. Then he caught sight of Jack's condition and he looked worried.

"Jack!" he yelled, running forward before his mother could pull him back.

Jack pulled out of Sam's supporting arm and he stumbled forward. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked dazedly.

Then he collapsed into the snow.

**A/N: Only one more chapter to go! I think I might cry when this is all over.**

**Thank you again to all my lovely reviewers! Your support for this story is absolutely incredible!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. The Other Kind of Guardian

**A Case of Frost**

**Chapter 11: The Other Kind of Guardian**

Where was he?

It was too dark.

Too warm.

Everything hurt.

His head was pounding. His body ached.

And yet, despite the pain, there was a vague sense of comfort. He shifted slightly, and realised that he was lying on his back on something soft. A bed? The darkness came from his tightly closed eyes, but he couldn't quite remember how to open them. He listened instead.

There was movement. The creaking of a chair. His own even breathing, mixed with the slightly more erratic breathing of another. Then the sound of a door opening, and the jingling of metal and the rustling of paper and something heavy being put down.

Then, a voice.

"Any change?"

He knew that voice. Sam.

"Nothing."

Dean.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Well, I don't know much about snowflake biology, but I'm pretty sure he'll be fine. He's supposedly immortal, remember?"

"I know. I just… He hasn't moved since last night. And he looked pretty sick when we got him away from the fire."

Fire, he thought. Was that why he felt so awful? He tried to remember, and the uncomfortable feeling of intense heat came to mind.

"Sammy, he'll be fine," Dean repeated firmly, "Look at him. He's looking better already. He just needs to sleep it off."

A sigh. "I saw Jamie in town. He asked about Jack."

Jamie. His heart warmed. Jamie was okay.

"How was he?"

"Pretty cheerful, considering everything that happened."

"He's a weird kid."

"Good, though."

"Yeah. I can see why this one likes him."

"He said that they've moved in with his grandparents until their house is habitable again. His mom's already talking to the builders."

"That was fast."

The voices stopped, and were replaced by the sound of cracking plastic. The warm smell of spiced food filled his nostrils.

He struggled against the lethargy that bound him down. It was difficult, and only served to make him more exhausted. But he continued to fight himself awake. He was almost surprised when his eyes snapped open and he shot upright, as though a spring holding him down had been released. He squinted against the sudden brightness, and gasped.

Sam made a surprised noise, and Dean choked on his food. They were standing at the foot of Jack's bed immediately and watching him with worried expressions.

"Jack, calm down," said Sam, "Take deep breaths. You're in our hotel room. You're okay."

They were misunderstanding the reason behind Jack's rapid breathing. He knew he was okay, and he had already figured out where he was. He just needed to catch his breath. He reached to his side automatically, but his fingers grasped only air.

Something was missing.

He felt around the bed frantically, trying to find it.

"My staff," he said. He needed it with him. It hadn't left his side in over three hundred years. He felt so vulnerable without it, especially when he wasn't at full strength as it was.

The brothers exchanged glances. Jack's heart sank. The fire hadn't..?

"Uh, Jack, about that," said Sam, "Don't you remember? The Monster snapped it in half. It's broken."  
How could he forget? The memory of pain, like he was being ripped apart from his belly through to his spine, jumped at him. He winced.

"I know," he said, "Where is it?"

Dean went back to the small table and picked the two halves of ancient wood off it. Jack reached out eagerly. He felt better as soon as they were in his hands.

"Thank you." He would fix it as soon as he had the strength. As it was then, however, he thought that just an attempt would have him passed out again.

"So, uh," began Sam, watching him sink back against the headboard, "how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Jack replied honestly, "Whose bright idea was it to light the fire?"

"Mine," said Dean, "And that bright idea saved all our lives, Snowflake."

"Speak for yourself." But Jack grinned at him to let him know that he wasn't really angry. Dean, with the stupid nicknames and cynical nature, had grown on him. "I'll forgive you for almost killing me. But can you at least open a window? How am I supposed to get better when it's so hot in here?"

Sam did so quickly, and Jack sighed in relief when the cool air hit him. He really did feel much better already, although his head still felt as though it had been split open with a blunt chisel.

He let the memories of the previous night return to him in silence. They'd gotten Mrs Bennett to safety, and she and the kids were safe. The Monster had come out. They'd fought. Then Jack, stupid and careless, had gotten himself caught by a second Monster. He was definitely rethinking his hoodie now. Then the pain had come, and the fire, and everything else was fuzzy. But they had won. And now Jack was in the brothers' hotel room, and they were still watching him in concern.

"To be honest, I thought you guys would've taken off by now," he said, "I didn't get the impression that you're the types to stick around."

Sam smiled ruefully. "We aren't, normally. But being the only adults who can see you, we thought we'd better make sure you were okay."

Jack wasn't used to being looked after like that. He had no doubt that the other Guardians would, if needed, but the chance had never come up. He wasn't sure how he should feel about it.

"Thanks," he told the brothers, "I guess."

Sam smiled, bright and honest. Jack thought he should do it more often. "Don't mention it."

* * *

Jack left sometime through the night, while Sam and Dean were sleeping.

When they woke early the next morning, there was a snowflake, unmelted and shining like crystal, resting on his pillow. A silent goodbye. The window was shut.

The brothers packed up their stuff in silence.

There were fresh sheets of snow on the grounds and rooftops, but the streets were quieter. There weren't any kids running around or playing. Sam supposed it was still too early for that. Or perhaps the schools had reopened after a few days of snow.

Although the parking lot looked liked a blizzard had hit it overnight, the car was untouched except for a thin layer of ice on the windows and doors. Sam used his sleeve to wipe it off enough to physically get the door open, and saw the reflection of icy blue eyes in the glass.

"Leaving already?" asked the accompanying voice from right behind him.

Sam spun around and found Jack Frost's face just inches away. The blue eyes danced with laughter and mischief, and thin lips were twisted into a satisfied grin at his startled reaction. Jack was once again sitting on top of his staff, as he had been when Sam had first seen him. It raised him up to Sam's level, so that they were almost nose-to-nose. He was looking far healthier than he had the previous night, and the happiness on his face served as proof that he was back to his usual self.

"We thought you'd run off," said Dean, coming around the car to stand at Sam's side, "Good to see you back on your feet, Bo Peep."

Jack smirked. "Call me that again, Winchester, and I'll strand you in Antarctica for a week."

"Well, at least you're back to normal."

"You fixed your staff," Sam noted, nodding at it. He'd made good work of it, too. Where the wood had been snapped clean in half, it was now smooth and free of even the faintest cracks.

"It was nothing," said Jack with a wave of his hand, "Piece of cake as soon as I had my strength back. I guess I went a little overboard in testing it out." He glanced around the snow-covered parking lot sheepishly, his eyes falling briefly on the car, and then returned his gaze to the brothers. "So. Where are you going from here?"

Sam shrugged. "We don't exactly plan ahead."

"We go wherever our baby takes us," added Dean, patting the top of the car, "What about you?"

"I'll hang around here for a bit," Jack replied, "Make sure the kids are alright after everything. And then I'll move on with the winter."

He was like them, Sam understood. Always moving, rarely staying still. Without a home. Alone.

"Will we see you again?" he asked, trying to keep the slight hope out of his voice.

Jack grinned at him. "Maybe. As long as-"

"Why do I feel like you're about to quote Journey at us?" interrupted Dean, looking annoyed.

Jack's pearly teeth shone in the sunlight as he threw his head back and laughed. "As long as you don't stop believing," he finished, "Keep an eye out for me when it snows, and I'll keep an eye out for you when there's trouble."

"Trouble?" asked Sam. That was their signature? He couldn't bring himself to feel offended, though. There was truth in Jack's assumption.

"I figured out where I know your names from," said Jack, his eyes bright, "Last year I snuck into North's office. Sam and Dean Winchester, numbers two and three on the Naughty List."

"The Naughty List?" exclaimed Dean, while Sam gaped at Jack in silence, "As in Santa Claus's Naughty List? We're on it?"

"Right below yours truly. So don't go trying to knock me off the top. I worked hard for that spot."

Sam laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. Santa Claus. No, Jack had called him North. Another Guardian.

"I don't think you need to worry about us," Sam said, "Just… Look after yourself." He knew that Jack was lifetimes older than them, but he couldn't help but think of him as the eighteen-year-old kid whose face he wore. And he was lonely, and Sam worried about him. "And if you need anything, give us a call. Jamie still has our number."

Jack looked surprised at the offer. He stared at Sam for a moment with his mouth slightly open, before he broke into a grin. "Same here. I'll let the other Guardians know. If you run into trouble, find us. The others might be busy, but I'll always help. It's the least I can do."

Sam recognised that it was time to say goodbye. He held out his hand. Jack reached out cautiously with his own. When they shook, his skin was as icy cold as ever.

"It was great to meet you," Sam said. He smiled. "It's been fun."

Jack chuckled as he leaned down from his perch to shake Dean's hand. "Likewise."

As the brothers climbed into the car, he jumped to the ground. "And guys?" They looked back at him expectantly. "Thanks. For protecting the kids. Really, thank you."

Sam grinned. "Don't mention it. It's what we do."

"It's our job," said Dean.

"The Winchester Guardians," Jack said quietly, his smile widening. The wind swept him up, and he floated a few feet in the air looking down at them. "See you around."

And with one final wave, he was gone, and Dean had started the car.

Sam found an old tape at the bottom of the collection and laughed. Dean complained when he put it on, but made no move to turn it off.

The brothers drove out of town with Journey blasting through the speakers. A frosted silhouette of a snowflake shone in the corner of the window.

**A/N: The end...**

Sorry I'm a little bit late in updating. The last week has been insane for me, plus I haven't had much internet access this weekend.

**Thank you so much to everyone who has ever reviewed or favourited or followed this. You have all been so amazing and I don't know whether I would have finished this without your support. So thank you thank you thank you!**


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